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ACAVALIER 


CE- THEODORE  ROBERTS 


t 


A  CAVALIER  OF 
VIRGINIA 

<iA  ^I^omance 

BY 

G.  E.  THEODORE  ROBERTS 

Author  oi  "BROTHERS  OF  PERIL."  "CAPTAIN  LOVE,"  "HEMMING 
THE  ADVENTURER,"  ETC 


Mad« in  U.S.  A. 


M.    A.   DONOHUE   &    COMP^^NY 

CHICAGO  ::  NEW  YORK 


264336 


Co/yr.  .  'it,  igoQ 
By  the  Frank  A.  Munsky  Company 


Ci''yrt\'/it,  igio 
By  L.  C.  Tack.  iS;  Company 

(iStoHl-OKAlIu) 


■^U  rights  restrved 


CONTENTS 


CHAm*  fACB 

I.  Thb  Home-comino 1 

II.  The  Brothers 12 

III.  Isobel's  Future 22 

IV.  An  Offer  of  Employment      •       •       •       •  33 
V.  A  Strange  Letter 42 

VI.  The  Ball  at  Admiral's  1'ride      •       •       ■  53 

VII.  A  Breakfast  Visit 69 

VIII.  Francis  Sails  Away 81 

IX.  At  the  Cat  and  Rat 93 

X.  The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face      .       ,  106 

XI.  In  Which  a  Spanish  Gentleman   A.rrives 

in  Virginia 116 

XII.  IsoBEL  Sails  Av,\f 133 

XIII.  Isobel's  Discovery 150 

XIV.  Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  .       .  i6t 
XV.  Three    Gentlemen    Follow    an    Eiusive 

Quest 175 

XVI.  Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo                 .  188 

XVII.  The  Brave  Adventure  a  Good  Ficktlx  .  198 

XVIII.  IsoBEL  Learns  Her  Uncle's  Real  Nat-jre  214 

XIX.  The  Ice-floe 228 

XX.  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval 243 

XXI.  The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk       .       .       .  254 

XXII.  Uns    iPECted  Fate     ......  267 

XXIII.  IsoBEi,  Looks  from  Her  Window        .  281 

XXIV.  A  Pleasant  Time  before  Breakfast  292 

XXV.  The  Rising 302 


■jPjstsflBBWWNwwirawRaaiaMiniMimnn; 


CAVALIER  OF  VIRGINIA 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  HOME-COMING 

For  the  past  six  days  —  since  first  regaining  the 
fringe  of  the  settlements  —  the  little  force  had  been 
gradually  disbanding.  Woodsmen,  trappers,  pioneer 
farmers,  traders,  millers,  planters,  and  gentlemen  of 
rank  and  fortune  —  smgly  or  by  twos  -"nd  threes, 
they  had  broken  away  and  gone  back  to  ir  homes 
and  private  affairs. 

For  two  months  they  had  campaig.iid  in  that  alluring 
but  menacing  wilderness  *  ■  li  lay,  un;  ii  iiomed,  between 
the  cultivated  lands  and  i.ie  unknown  West.  Now, 
when  the  forest  foliage  was  reddening  under  the  frosts 
of  late  October,  and  a  healthy  regard  for  the  rifles  of 
the  Virginian  militia  had  been  implanted  in  the  slilfty 
hearts  of  two  tribes  of  savages,  they  felt  free  to  return 
to  their  interrupted  businesses  and  pleasures. 

1 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


At  last,  where  Saddle  Hill  Trail  branches  off  from 
the  king's  highway,  Master  Francis  Drurie  and  Captain 
Simeon  Hewett  drew  rein  and  shook  hands. 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  Frank!  " 
"And  to  you,  Sim  — God  bless  you!" 
Then  Hewett  wheeled  toward  Saddle  Hill,  touched 
spur  to  his  thin  nag,  and  lifted  his  hat.     Drurie  re- 
turned  the   salute,   and   trotted   eastward   along  the 
highway. 

And  thus  had  six  companies  of  Virginian  riflemen  — 
men  in  homespun,  buckskin,  blue  and  gold,  coonskin 
caps  and  laced  hats  —  disbanded,  without  the  sanction 
of  general  orders,  cr  any  blaring  of  trumpets.  These 
were  soldiers,  not  mummers.  The  rifle-work  and  the 
swcrd-work  were  o\-cr  for  the  season.  Their  duty 
to  their  country  was  done  for  the  time.  God  grant 
them  to  find  their  families  still  intact,  their  cabins  and 
houses  still  standmg,  and  their  crops  garnered  in  good 
order! 

Francis  Drurie's  coat  of  fine  blue  cloth  v/as  patched 
and  ripped  and  weather-stained.  His  hat  was  faded, 
and  the  gold  lace  on  it  tarnished  beyond  reburnishing. 
His  saddle  was  black  with  wear  and  wet  and  sunburn. 
On  his  legs  he  wore  breeches  of  buckskin;  and  his 
high  boots  of  English  leather  had  been  replaced  weeks 
before  by  beaded  moccasins  and  fringed  leggings.    He 


The  Home-coming 


carried  a  long  flint-lock  rifle  slung  across  his  shoulders, 
pistols  in  his  holsters,  and  a  sword  at  his  side. 

His  face  'vas  tanned  to  a  red-brown  as  deep  as  an 
Indian's;  and  from  chat  savage-hued  mask  his  blue 
eyes  shcne  out  with  startling  brightness.  His  light 
brown  hair,  where  it  lay  on  his  neck  unpowdered,  and 
tied  with  a  narrow  ribbon,  was  bleached  by  the  sun  to 
the  shade  of  ripe  corn-husks.  He  was  slender  of  figure, 
and  but  little  above  the  medium  height  of  men  of  his 
race;  but  he  was  well-muscled  and  well-featured,  thin 
and  hard  as  a  hound,  and  with  courage  in  eyes  and 
brow  to  be  read  at  a  glance.  For  all  his  service-worn 
equipment,  and  sixty  days  of  campaigning,  he  sat 
straight  and  rode  lightly. 

At  a  gap  in  a  hedge  barred  with  rails,  Francis  Drurie 
dismounted.  Here  began  a  sliadc'd  path  which  he 
knew;  and  by  it  he  would  ride,  coolly  and  free  of  dust, 
across  the  groves  of  Fairwood  Manor  and  Admiral's 
Pride,  and  into  the  arms  of  his  family.  He  lowered 
thi  rails,  led  his  horse  over  and  swunij  to  the 
saddle. 

The  narrow  path  was  carpeted  with  short,  thin 
grass  as  soft  as  moss.  The  hoofs  of  his  horse  made  no 
sound.  Suddenly  across  the  still  air,  fragrant  with 
the  breath  cf  ripened  leaves  and  mellow  earth,  and 


cone?; 


purpling   in  the  sun,   lifted   a  voice,   :.inging. 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Francis  knew  the  voice;   and  these  are  the  words  of 
the  verse  he  heard: 

"  Time  is  old  and  life  is  brief 

Then  'tis  shame  to  prate  of  sorrow. 

If  to-day  holds  naught  of  grief, 
Let  the  good  God  mind  to-morrow. 

Time  is  old,  but  Youtli  is  strong ; 

Life  is  brief,  but  Love  is  long." 

Francis  drew  rein,  smiling.  The  singing  had  ceased, 
the  sweet  voice  dropping  to  silence  as  suddemy  as  it 
had  sprung  upon  the  drowsy  air.  He  retlected  for 
a  moment  and  then  struck  up  the  last  verse  of  the 
familiar  song. 

"  Ride  ye  south  and  ride  ye  north  — 
You'll  be  riding  home  to-morrow 
Back  from  whence  ye  cantered  forth 
With  your  scars  and  weary  sorrow. 
Time  is  old  and  Death  is  strong ; 
Life  is  brief,  but  Love  is  long." 

A  moment's  silence  followed  the  conclusion  of  the 
young  man's  effort;  then  came  a  short,  glad  cry  — 
stifled  almost  as  soon  as  uttered  — from  somewhere 
down  the  woodland  path.  The  tanned  cheeks  of  the 
campaigner  flushed  at  the  sound.  He  waited,  tense 
in  the  saddle.    The  horse  began  to  fidget,  knowing  that 


The  Home-coming 


there  was  no  ambush  of  painted  savages  to  fear  in  the 
woodlands  of  the  manor. 

Puzzled  by  the  silence,  and  wondering  abashed  at 
the  note  of  that  brief  cry,  Francis  let  the  horse  move 
forward;  then  on  second  thought  he  sprang  to  the 
ground,  caught  the  reins  up  on  one  of  the  holsters, 
and  walked  briskly  ahead.    The  horse  followed  quietly. 

In  this  manner  they  moved  along  for  a  considerable 
distance,  the  young  man  expecting  to  catch  sight  of 
the  girl  at  every  turn  of  the  path,  and  at  every  turn 
wondering  more  and  more  why  she  did  not  appear. 
He  increased  his  pace,  and  soon  saw  the  gleam  of  a 
white  frock  between  the  forest  walls  in  front.  She  was 
moving  away  from  him. 

"  Isobel,  Isobel! "  he  called,  and  broke  into  a  run. 

She  did  not  turn  until  he  was  within  a  few  yards  of 
her.  Then  she  sprang  aside,  and  faced  him  v^ith 
feigned  amazement  in  her  splendid  eyes.  There  was 
another  emotion  there  which  the  amazement  could 
have  hidden  only  from  persons  with  as  little  experience 
in  such  matters  as  young  Drurie. 

"Frank!"  she  cried. 

Laughing,  he  tried  to  catch  her  in  his  arms;  but 
she  slipped  out  of  his  embrace,  and  held  him  away 
with  one  light  hand.  Her  brow  and  cheeks  were 
bright  with  fleeting  colour.    Her  eyes  looked  past  him, 


€ 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ir 


dark  as  deep  water,  but  bright  as  stars.    Everything 
about  her  uas  bright,  and  yet  of  a  brightness  that  waf 
as  tender  as  dimness  -as  tender  as  the  halMights  of 
dusk  and  da™.    Though  her  eyes  and  hair  were  so 
dork  that  they  often  looked  black,  her  skin  was  of  a 
wonderful  fairness.    About  her  white  neck  gleamed  a 
thm  gold  Cham,  holding  just  below  the  tender  hollo.v 
of  her  t.hroat  a  small  gold  cross  set  with  pearls  which 
Franas  had  given  her  on  a  birthday  several  years  ago 

asked  '"''   ''"'''^'^   '"""   """   ''"-'"P^?"   she 

Voung  Drurie  did  net  answer  immediatelv.      He 

^tood  wuh  his  ..n,s  hanging  a.  his  sides,  his  forehead 

pucKered  ever  ,,0  slightly,  smiling,  but  with  cmss-lights 

of  puzzled  inquiry  in  his  blue  eves. 

.^7!r  "'V™*P^'  "  ■™"  like-f,x>m  thousands 
and  thousands  of  miles  of  tree-tops  _  but  it  was 
ha  der  tnan  dropping,  as  Jumper,   here,  could  tell 

bel       he  as^^d  anxtously.    "  Why  don't  you  laugh  at 

fun  of  my  shabby  coat  and  brick-red  face?  You  are 
n^  natural  Isobel.  I  heard  you  ringing  a  long  time 
ago  -and  I  sent  a  voice  back  to  >.u.    And  you  heard 

straight  away  from  me  ?   That  was  not  kind,  Isobcl  " 


The  Home-coming 


She  did  not  meet  his  steady  regard. 

"  I  did  not  run,"  she  said. 

lie  let  that  pass  for  the  little  it  was  worth. 

"  You  were  sorry  when  I  vent  away.  I  thought 
you  would  be  glad  when  I  got  back,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  I  am  glad!  "  she  cried.    "  You  know  I  am  glad! " 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  presume  to  deny  what  you  say, 
dear;  but  you  do  not  behave  as  if  you  were  very 
glad,"  he  returned  gently,  "  You  are  changed,  little 
girl.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  changed  in  any  way. 
I  have  always  thought  that  you  would  be  as  glad  to 
see  me  home  again  as  you  were  sorry  to  see  me  go 
away." 

"  When  did  you  think  about  it  ?  "  she  as!:cd,  mock 
increduiity  in  her  voice.  "  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe 
that  you,  a  full-fledged  soldier  of  Virginia,  gave  any 
time  to  such  foolish  reflections?  Be  honest,  Frank, 
and  tell  me  when  you  thought  about  whether  I  should 
be  glad  or  sorry  to  see  you  home  again.  I  am  sure  It 
was  not  when  you  were  fighting  with  th.  savages,  or 
eating  in  their  lodges,  cr  riding  thiough  the  forest  with 
your  comrades." 

The  young  man  gazed  at  her  in  undisguised  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  such  idiotic  questions,  Isobel  ?  " 
he  complained.    "  But  I  shall  answer  them,  though  I 


8 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


y- 


do  net  think  them  sincere.    Honestly,  then,  I  often 
made  pictures  of  our  meeting  in  my  mind  -  while  we 
marched,  and  v.hen  I  lay  in  my  blankets  at  night;  and 
ever  smce  T  parted  with  Hewett  at  the  crossroads  I've 
been  thinking  he  •  fine  it  would  be  to  —  to  —  " 
"To  what?"  she  asked. 
"  To  kiss  you  again,"  he  said. 
"  Oh  •  "  exclaimed  the  girl  softly,  her  eyes  intent  on 
his  beaded  moccasins. 

"  I  really  thought  I  was  going  to  do  it.    My  mind 
was  set  on  it,"  he  ventured. 
"  And  you  didn't,  after  all." 
''  I  don't  kiss  by  force,"  he  said,  smiling  forlornly. 
Frank,"  she  said  in  a  changed  voir  ,  -  vou  mu.:t 
realize  no.v  that  we  are  no  longer  children."  ' 

"  Children!  "  he  cried  in  mild  indignation.  "  Chil- 
dren! Who  says  we  are  children?  True,  you  are  only 
eighteen -but  I  am  twenty-two.  Children  don't 
command  companies  of  riflemen  campaigning  in  ihe 
WKderness."  He  laughed  boyishly  at  his  ou-n  big  talk. 
But,  m  all  '  eriousness,"  he  added,  "  why  have  I  not 
as  much  right  lo  kiss  you,  now  that  I  am  a  man,  as  I 
had  when  I  was  an  unappreciative  child?" 

';  But  you  know  that  you  have  not,"  she  replied 
quietly.  *^ 

A  change  came  to  Francis  Drurie's  tanned  face. 


The  Home-coming 


9 


The  whimsical  lig!'  faded  from  his  blue  ey-s,  and  his 
lips  straightened  a  little.  "  You  are  wiser  than  I  am, 
my  dear  Isobel,"  he  said.  "  You  realize  my  position 
better  than  I  do  myself.  It  is  evident  that  you  have 
given  some  thought  to  the  matter.  The  elder  sons 
—  the  heirs  to  the  tobacco-fields  and  slaves  —  are  the 
fortunate  fellows  who  retain  the  privilege  of  kissing-their 
lady  friends  after  arrivmg  ?'.  the  age  of  manhood.  The 
poor,  unfortunate  devils  who  have  their  own  way  to 
make  in  the  world  must  learn  discretion  all  of  a  sudden. 
I'd  not  thought  of  that,  but  I  see  the  good  sense  of  it 
clear  enough.  I  shall  now  kiss  your  hand,  my  dear,  by 
way  of  greeting  between  old  playmates  after  an  absence 
of  two  months—  and  then  I'll  let  the  argument  drop. 
May  I  venture?" 

"  No,  you  may  not,"  she  replied  with  spirit.  "  You 
have  spoken  very  unkindly.  Because  I  ask  you  to 
remember  that  we  arc  no  longer  little  children,  you 
instantly  speak  as  if  —  as  if  I  do  not  care  for  you  any 
more  because  —  because  you  are  not  the  heir  to  Ad- 
miral's Pride.  I  do  not  care  for  Admiral's  Pride!  You 
are  —  very  unkind." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  most  humbly,  Isobel,"  sdd 
Francis  anxiously.  "  God  knows  I  do  not  want  to 
think  that !  We've  been  the  best  of  friends  ever  since 
you  came  to  Virginia,  little  girl;  so  why  squabble  just 


10 


great  age?    That  would  be  childish,  certainlv     T  , 

"■ore  sorry  that  I  have  spoken  m,kindly.    B.U!^^ 
voice  shakes  again   dear  a.  ;,  j- 1  ■  ^  " 

you-thoughfhey'h:;.:;:^"'"""^-''"'- 

way  again.     Then,  as  ,f  workmg  for  a  wager,  she 

tnbes,  the  6gh„ng,  ,he  marching,  and  the  >vi!d  animals 
he  had  encountered.  .And  while  she  questioned  ^d 
he  answered  they  moved  forward.  side\y  d  ,"h 
the  horse  dose  at  their  heels 

he  d  Id  r  '  T™'  "*  '"«"^  ^'^^P^''  and 

»ess  of  wha^  h  ^'  .  P'-'^'^ding  unconscious- 

«-ds  ti:y    , ':/"■    '"  "-^  ''^P'"^  Of  the 

FairwoodLrt:'i:r:;r^'---^ 

;je^ently  w.hdre>v  he/'^ar^t  ^^^ 
packet  ""  ''"^""'■^^'  ■"■'  i°  Ws  own 


^^^Q'-:::' 


"•^^as^- 


The  Home-coming 


11 


"  And  to-morrow?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  I'll  ride  over  in  the  morning,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  some  interesting  specimens  of  picture-writing  for 
your  father's  collection." 

He  swung  to  the  saddle,  lifted  his  hat  and  let  the 
eager  horse  start  off  at  a  sharp  trot.  Where  the  path 
broke  through  the  underbrush  into  a  wide  avenue  that 
led  up  to  the  house  of  Admiral's  Pride  he  turned  and 
glanced  back.  The  girl  was  still  standing  where  he  had 
left  her,  gazing  do\vn  the  green  pathway.  She  blew  a 
kiss  to  him  and  vanished  in  a  twinkling. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  BROTHERS 

In  those  days  there  were  not  many  finer  estates  in 
Virginia  than  Admiral's  Pride,  and  few  finer  residences 
than  Captain  Paul  Drurie's.  The  estate  had  been  first 
settled  and  cleared,  and  the  house  built  by  the  captain's 
father,  old  Rear-Admiral  Drurie.  The  admiral  in 
his  day,  had  been  a  hero  in  the  eyes  and  hearts  of  the 
English  public,  and  was  affectionately  kno^vn  in  every 
■  ship  of  the  navy  as  "  Hot-Shot  Bill." 

In  front  of  the  house  lay  six  acres  of  velvety  lawn  and 
well-tended  shrubberies.    The  park  itself  -  woodlands 
of  oak,   walnut,  and     edar- covered  one  hundred 
acres.    The  house,  with  its  offices  and  lawns,  kennels 
and  stables,  occupied  the  centre  of  the  park.    Back  of 
this  block  of  land  were  the  negro  quarters,  the  great 
cattle-sheds,   the   windmill   and   tobacco-houses,    and 
hundreds  of  acres  of  meadow,   pasture,   and  forest, 
and  the  fields  where  the  com,  tobacco,  and  sugar-cane 
were  raised.    Yes,  it  was  a  fine  home  to  which  young 
Master  Francis  Drurie  rode  back,  in  his  shabby  coat 


The  Brothers 


IS 


and  Indian  moccasins,  astride  his  weather-blackened 
saddle. 

A  couple  of  hound  puppies  were  the  first  of  the 
household  to  catch  sight  of  the  horseman.  They 
charged  across  the  lawns  to  meet  him,  yelping  with 
delight  at  the  prospect  of  a  little  excitement.  When 
the  man  spoke  to  them,  and  they  saw  that  the  raw- 
boned  horse  was  no  other  than  Jumper,  their  demon- 
strations immediately  took  on  a  subdued  note. 

Next  an  old  hound,  gray  of  muzzle,  and  with  one 
eye  like  a  clouded  opal,  got  to  his  feet  on  the  lower 
gallery,  sniffed  the  air  inquiringly  for  a  momeni,  and 
then  descended  to  the  lawn  at  a  dignified  trot.  This 
was  Bellringer,  who  had  led  the  pack  for  seven  years, 
and  for  three  had  loafed  about  the  galleries,  honourably 
retired  from  the  field  because  of  stiffening  joints  and 
a  thickening  windpipe.  At  sight  of  him  Francis 
drew  rein  and  dismounted. 

The  dog  quickened  his  pace  a  little,  and  began  to 
twist  his  long  tan-and-white  body  as  the  lad  drew 
near.  He  settled  lower  on  his  legs,  drew  baci  his  gray 
upper  lip  and  displryed  a  couple  of  white  fangs.  From 
deep  in  his  rusty  throat  came  a  gurgling  growl  —  a 
growl  as  expressive  of  welcome  and  joy  and  love  as 
any  human  cry.  He  lifted  himself  stiffly  to  his  full 
height  and  planted  his  front  paws  on  the  young  man's 


14 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


breast;    and,  standing  thus,  he  ydpcd  with  all  his 
strength. 

It  was  old  Bcllringcr's  yelping  that  announced  to 
everybody  in  and  about  the  house  that  the  militiaman 
was  home  again  from  the  wilderness.    The  captain  left 
his   book   open  on  the  study  table  and  hobbled  to 
the   lawn.     The   ancient   butler  — who   had   been   a 
gunner's-mate  aboard   the  captain's  ship  —  followed 
close.     .Mrs.   Drurie  sped  from  her  bodrcom  to  the 
rail  of  the  upper  gallery,  looked  eagerly  about  and, 
with  a  little  scream  of  delight,  turne<l  and  lied  back 
again,  down  the  great  staircase  and  out  to  the  lawn. 
From  the   majestic  old  cook  in   her  rcd-and-yellow 
turban,  to  the  youngest  housemaid  in  spotless  white 
cotton  and  white  headkerchief,  all  the  black  house  serv- 
ants appeared  and  formed  a  group  behind  the  master, 
the  mistress,  and  the  privileged  old  white  butler. 

Francis  Drurie  embraced  and  kissed  nis  mother, 
shook  the  captain's  hand  for  a  full  minute  —  all  the 
time  the  two  grinned  feelingly  at  each  other  without 
a  word  —  and  then  gave  a  cordial  grip  to  the  old  hero 
who  had  descended  comfortably  from  serving  his  guns 
on  the  seas,  under  both  Hot-Shot  Bill  and  Captain  Paul, 
to  serving  soups  and  wines  ashore.  To  the  group  behind 
them  he  waved  a  hand,  and  called  a  good-natured 
greeting. 


The  Brothers 


15 


"Where  is  John?"   he  asked  presently,   looking 
up  at  the  house. 

"John?     Why,   John  is  shooting  with  Fairwood 
to-day,"  replied  the  captain. 

Mrs.  Druric  smiled. 

"I  thihk  he  is  not  paying  much  attention  to  the 
birds.    Isobel  is  there,  too,"  she  said. 

At  that  the  captain  turned  squarely  upon  her. 

"So  that  is  what  you  have  in  your  mind!"  he 
exclaimed  amusedly. 

"He  is  certainly  paying  much  more  attention  to 
her  than  he  used  to,"  replied  the  lady. 

The  campaigner  gave  a  keen  ear  to  this  conversation, 
but  said  not  a  word.  As  was  usual  with  him,  he 
thought  the  more  for  saying  nothing. 

John  Druric  and  Mr.  Fairwood  appeared  early  in 
the  afternocn,  for  the  news  of  the  Indian  fighter's 
return  from  the  vdlds  had  sped  over  three  plantations 
with  the  despatch  of  the  wind.  John  was  honestly 
pleased  to  see  his  brother  sale  and  sound  again;  but 
it  looked  as  if  Mr.  Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  was 
even  more  pleased. 

"  I  heard  one  of  the  plowboys  yelling  to  another 
across  a  forty-acre  field  that  you  had  got  home  again," 
he  ?aid.  "  There  wa^  a  covey  ot  partridges  in  the  air, 
right  in  front  of  my  gun.    Well,  lad,  I  let    hem  go. 


16 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


There's  not  a  bird  that  flies  would  have  tempted  me  to 
wait  and  pull  trigger.  '  Frank's  home,'  I  sang  out 
to  John,  and  ran  for  the  house,  leaving  my  dogs  In 
the  stubble.  Yes,  lad,  I  put  my  best  foot  foremost, 
you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  knew  old  Gunner's-mate 
Joskms  would  be  mixmg  one  of  those  three-decker 
punches  of  his." 

True  for  you,  Mr.  Fairwood  -  Joskins  had  mixed 
the  punch! 

Now  is  my  time  to  speak  of  a  punch  that  was  more 
famous,  in  its  day,  than  many  poets  and  warriors  and 
statesmen.     Though  one  could  drink  good  liquor  at 
Admiral's  Pride  at  any  hour  of  the  twentv-four  and 
at  any  season  of  thfe  year,  it  was  only  for  special  occa- 
sions that  the  great  punch  was  brewed.    The  Admiral 
had  invented  it,   and  named  it  after  his  flag-ship. 
Before  his  death,  he  had  taught  the  secret  of  it  to 
Joskins.     A  few  prigs  called  it  the  "  Bellerophon  " ; 
but  by  the  family,  the  intimate  friends  and  the  butler 
it  was  frankly  spoken  of  as  the  "  Billv-rough-un  " 
Tradition   had  it   that   "  Hot-Shot   Bill'"   had  won 
promotion    and   recognition   in   high   places   by   this 
punch  more   than  by  his  fighting  and   seamanship. 
I  have  not  a  doubt  that  this  is  true  — for  the  navy 
was  full  of  exceptional  fighters  (so  full  that  the  Lords 
of  the  Admiralty  sometimes  grew  quite  tired  of  hearing 


The  Brothers 


17 


of  their  deeds  of  valour),  but  had  only  one  punch  that 
was  above  criticism.  The  inventor  had  gi\en  the 
receipt  of  the  punch  to  his  sovereign  and,  in  return, 
had  been  invited  to  dinner.  This  was  the  drink  that 
was  mixed  by  the  ex-gunner's  mate  Joskins,  in  honour 
of  Francis  Drurie's  return  from  campaigning  in  the 
West. 

But  Francis  was  not  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  it  fully. 
He  felt  a  restlessness  that  he  could  not  account  for  — 
a  restlessness  of  the  mind  rather  than  the  body — 
and  a  depression  of  spirit  equally  unreasonable. 
Fresh  from  a  bath,  clothed  in  the  fine  linen  and  un- 
stained garments  of  prosperity,  with  the  great  punch 
before  him  on  the  gleaming  mahogany,  and  his  father, 
his  brother,  and  Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  near 
him,  yet  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  glanced 
continually  through  the  long  window  of  the  dining- 
room  into  the  garden  where  the  gold  of  the  sunlight 
was  deepening  on  stalk  and  leaf. 

The  talk  seemed  trivial  to  him,  though  it  was  the 
talk  of  his  class  and  his  country  —  of  crops,  dinners, 
men,  dogs,  and  horses -— subjects  that  had  always 
interested  him  keenly  until  the  present  moment. 
Even  the  incidents  of  the  campaign  had  dwindled  to 
insignificance  in  his  eyes.  In  answer  to  the  questions 
of  the  men  he  told  them  of  the  skirmishing,  the  hard- 


18 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ships,  the  fine  shooting  of  the  pioneers,  the  customs 
of  the  tribes,  and  what-not;  but  he  spoke  without  his 
usual  warmth  —  a  fact  that  was  as  noticeable  to  the 
others  as  to  himself. 

"  You  are  tired,  lad,"  said  the  captain  anxiously. 
"  You  should  turn  in  and  sleep  the  clock  around." 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  A-1  tired,"  replied  Francis.     "  I 
have  had  plenty  of  sleep  in  the  last  week  since  we  got 
out  of  the  dangerous  country.    We  slept  lightly  before 
that  out  of  respect  for  our  scalps.    But  I  feel  a  trifle 
restless,  and  that's  a  fact.     It  may  be  owing  to  the 
sudden  change  from  constant  alertness  and  poor  fare 
to  this  sort  of  thing."    He  looked  at  the  great  silver 
bowl.    "  Perhaps  I  have  acquired  the  habit  of  work. 
It  may  be  that  I  miss  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  the 
life  I  have  been  Ii\-ing  for  the  past  two  months." 

■'  Cheer  u^,,  lad,"  said  Mr.  Fairwood.  "  You'll  get 
fatigue  and  excitement  enough  next  week,  for  we  hunt 
the  Dudley  country  on  Monday,  the  Swan  River 
country  on  Wednesday,  and  Saddle  Hill  on  Saturday." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Francis,  for  he  was  a  keen 
spc.rtsman,  and  the  best  gentleman  rider  in  the  county, 
either  at  Hat-racing,  cross-country,  or  steeple- chasing. 

"  But  Jumper  looks  thin  and  unfit,"  said  the  cap- 
tain.   "  He'll  need  a  deal  of  graining  before  Monday." 

"Don't   hunt   him  for  a  fortnight,   lad."    advised 


The  Brothers 


19 


Mr.  Fairwood.    "  Let  him  rest,  and  take  the  pick  of 
niy  stud  until  he  is  fit  for  work  again." 

"  But  you  offered  me  a  mount,  sir,  until  Snowball's 
shoulder  hardens,"  said  John,  smiling. 

Mr.  Fairwood  turned  a  haughty  glance  in  the 
speaker's  direction.  He  had  gray  eyes,  easily  warmed 
to  good  nature  or  chilled  to  displeasure.  He  was 
fjmous  for  saying  what  he  felt. 

"  But  ?  "  he  questioned,  in  a  voice  of  indignation. 
"  What  d'ye  mean,  John,  by  saying  '  but '  to  me  ?  I 
offered  you  a  mount,  sir,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
offer  still  holds.  Any  friend  of  mine,  or  son  of  a  friend, 
or  friend  of  a  friend,  is  welcome  to  a  horse  from  my 
stables,  or  a  bottle  from  my  cellar,  whenever  he  wants 
it.  But  did  I  offer  you  the  best  ?  No,  John,  I  did  not. 
You  will  have  to  put  up  with  the  second  best." 

John  was  too  thoroughly  abashed  to  e\ :  a  try  to 
reply.  Francis  felt  sorry  for  him,  but  could  not  help 
thinking  that  an  occasional  facer  of  the  kind  would  do 
him  no  harm.  John  took  it  too  much  for  granted  that 
the  best  of  everything  should  be  his.  The  captain 
looked  neither  abashed,  sorry,  or  amused.  He  refilled 
Mr.  Fairwood's  glass  from  the  half-pint  ladle,  then 
looked  fixedly  at  his  elder  son. 

"  How  is  it,"  he  asked,  "  that  Admiral's  Pride  is 
so  short  of  hunters  ?  " 


20 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  I  —  I  do  not  know,  exactly,"  replied  John. 
"  But  you  should  know,"  retorted  the  captain,  "  I 
put  the  stables  in  your  charge  six  months  ago.  If  you 
cannot  manage  the  stables  alone,  how  will  you  ever 
run  the  whole  estate?  John,  I  am  deeply  distressed. 
Here  we  are  —  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
Admiral's  Pride,  I'll  wager  — short  of  horses,  at  the 
start  of  the  hunting  season." 

Mr.  Fairwood  could  not  bear  to  hear  any  one  taken 
to  task.  He  gulped  his  punch,  stared  round  the  room 
with  a  swiftly  melting  eye,  and  at  last  focused  his  gaze 
upon  the  captain. 

"  Come,  Paul,  you  must  not  be  so  hard  on  the 
youngster,"  he  cried.  "  He  is  at  the  age  when  most 
men  are  fools,  anyway.  All  he  thinks  of  now  is  dressing 
himself  up  in  fine  clothes  from  London,  but  he  may 
outgrow  that.  He  may  make  a  fine,  sensible  man 
some  day.  Heaven  knows." 

Captain  Drurie  roared  with  laughter.  Francis 
turned  his  head  away,  to  hide  a  smile  that  he  could  not 
keep  from  his  face.  John  glared  at  Mr.  Fairwood, 
reckless  with  the  sting  of  injured  pride. 

"  Do  you  realize,"  cried  the  furious  heir,  "  that  you 
are  speaking  of  a  man  of  twenty-five  years  of  age  — 
of  a  bachelor  of  Oxford  University,  sir;  of  a  gentleman 
and  a  scholar?" 


The  Brothers 


«1 


Fairwood,  who  thought  he  had  been  figuring  very 
tactfully  as  a  peacemaker,  gaped  at  the  young  man 
in  pained  astonishment.  Fortunately  the  ridiculous 
side  of  the  affair  struck  him  before  his  rage  exploded, 
and  he  jomed  the  captain  in  wide-throated  laughter. 
John  sprang  to  his  feet  and  marched  from  the  room. 

When  his  seniors  had  finished  their  laughter,  Francis 
said:  "  You  were  too  sharp,  Mr.  Fairwood.  He  will 
sulk  for  a  week." 


CHAPTER  III 


isobel's  futuri: 

Before  leaving  the  dining-table  and  the  silver  bowl 
Francis  won  from  Mr.  Fairwood  an  acknowledgment 
of  the  fact  that  John  had  not  been  treated  fairly. 
The  captain  took  no  part  in  the  argument,  but  sat 
far  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  turr.ci  to  a 
portrait  of  Hot-Shot  Bill.  It  was  a  belief  of  his 
that  two  are  enough  for  any  argument.  As  soon  as 
Mr.  Fairwood  had  admitted  that  he  really  thought 
very  highly  of  John,  and  had  not  meant  more  than 
half  of  what  he  had  said,  Francis  excused  himself 
and  left  the  room. 

Francis  found  John  upstairs,  in  a  little  room  full 
jf  books,  sulking  in  the  window-seat. 

"  John,"  said  the  campaigner,  "  :Mr.  Fairwood 
wants  you  to  know  that  he  did  not  mean  what  he  said 
of  you,  and  that  he  is  sorry  he  said  it.  He  has  the 
highest  regard  for  your  scholarship,  John." 

"  Scholarship! "  cried  the  other.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  scholarship  in  this  barbaric  hole?    Here  a  rifleman 

22 


Isobel's  Future 


23 


in  a  coon-skin  cap  is  of  more  account  than  a  poet;  and 
if  a  gentleman  can  stick  to  the  back  of  a  half-broken 
colt  he  is  looked  upon  as  the  possessor  of  a  liberal 
education.  Horses  and  dogs,  tobacco  and  rum,  fighting 
and  sleeping  —  Lord,  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  colony 
capable  of  lifting  his  brain  above  these  things! " 

"Oh,  come  now,  John,  you  are  talking  like  an 
idiot,"  said  Francis,  laughing  good-naturedly. 

"  If  I  talk  like  an  idiot,  I  am  driven  to  it,"  repile-' 
John.    "  Why  was  I  sent  to  England  and  Europe  for 
my  education  if  I  am  not  to  be  allowed  to  continue  the 
life?    What  do  I  care  about  the  stables?    The  grooms 
can  manage  the  feeding  of  the  horses  quite  well  without 
my  help.    I  have  more  important  work  to  do;    and, 
by  Heaven,  I'll  do  it!" 
"  What  is  the  work  ?  "  asked  Francis. 
"  Why  should  I  tell  you?  "  retorted  John.    "  There 
is  only  one  person  in  Virginia  who  cares  the  snap  of  a 
finger  about  my  work." 
"Who  is  that?"  asked  Francis. 
"Isobel,"    replied    the    elder    brother,    without    a 
moment's  hesitation,  and  looking  at  Francis,  as  if  he 
expected  some  indication  of  special  interest. 

"  You  are  fortunate,"  said  the  other  indifferently. 
And  then:  "I  should  like  to  know  what  ii  is  that 
interests  Isobel." 


24 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  A  history  of  Rome." 

"Rome?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  verse." 

Francis  was  honestly  astonished.  He  had  never 
suspected  John  of  the  staying  power  to  attempt  so 
monumental  a  work  as  a  history  of  any  kind,  either  in 
verse  or  prose.  Of  coursi  he  had  often  heard  the 
other  speak  of  his  work,  but  had  never  seen  an>'thing 
of  it  except  a  few  dismal  lyrics. 

"  Is  it  done?  "  he  asked,  in  an  awestruck  voice. 

John  was  disgusted  with  the  question. 

"  This  sort  of  thing  is  not  done  in  two  months,"  he 
replied  superciliously.  "It  is  rather  more  difficult 
than  a  campaign  against  a  handful  of  savages," 

"And  will,  no  doubt,  be  responsible  for  more 
deaths,"  retorted  Francis,  as  he  hastened  from  the 
room.  He  had  never,  in  all  his  life,  found  John  in 
quite  such  a  beastly  humour. 

Next  morning,  shortly  after  breakfast,  Francis 
Drurie  set  out  on  foot  to  call  on  Mr.  Richard  Dariza, 
Isobel's  father.  The  Dariza  place  was  named  Hope- 
land,  and  lay  just  the  other  side  of  Fairwood  Manor. 
It  was  a  small  estate,  with  a  small,  new  house  upon  it, 
and  had  once  been  a  part  of  the  manor.  Francis 
carried  a  parcel,  in  which  were  a  number  of  examples 
of  Indian  picture-writing  for  Mr.  Dariza  and  a  necklf  :e 


Isobel's  Future 


25 


of  strange  gems  for  Isobel.  He  crossed  the  Fairwood 
lands  without  attracting  the  attention  of  any  one  at 
the  house  —  to  have  done  so  would  have  meant  delay 
and  a  second  breakfast  —  and  arrived  at  the  Dariza 
place  just  as  the  master  himself  stepped  from  the 
breakfast-room  to  the  gallery. 

Richard  Dariza  was  a  Spaniarc  by  birth.  Years 
ago,  in  his  native  land,  he  had  been  .veil  known  in  high 
places  as  the  Senor  Ricardo  Alcazardo  da  Riza.  There 
had  been  trouble  of  a  family  and  political  nature,  and 
Da  Riza  had  Anglicized  his  name  and  turned  his  back 
for  ever  on  his  own  country.  A  year  or  two  later  he 
married  Miss  Fairwood,  of  Virginia.  This  happened 
in  London,  and  for  twelve  years  they  made  their  home 
in  England.  Two  children  were  bom  to  them  —  the 
first  a  boy,  the  second  a  girl. 

When  Isobel  was  in  her  fifth  year  the  mother  fell 
very  ill.  This  was  in  midwinter.  Dariza  was  almost 
crazed  with  terror,  and  immediately  removed  his 
family  to  the  south  of  France.  There  Mistress  Dariza 
recovered  something  of  her  strength,  but  she  talked 
continually  of  her  home  in  Virginia,  and  grieved  for  it. 
As  soon  as  the  doctors  said  that  she  was  strong  enough 
to  undertake  a  sea-voyage  her  husband  engaged  passage 
for  his  family  from  Bristol  to  the  great  colony.  The 
voyage  was  made  in  safely,  but  within  a  month  of  their 


26 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


arrival,  at  the  home  of  her  people.  Mistress  Dariza 
died. 

Another  great  blow  awaited  the  unfortunate  Spaniard. 
It  fell  some  ten  years  later  when  his  son,  Richard 
Fairwood  St.  George  Dariza,  a  young  lieutenant  in 
the  nr  ■  /,  quarrelled  with  a  senior  officer,  killed  him  in 
fair  fight,  and  vanished  as  completely  from  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  Admiralty  and  his  family  as  if  he  had 
descended  into  his  grave. 

Dariza's  thin  face  and  dark  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure 
at  sight  of  young  Druric.  He  hastened  across  the 
gallery  and  down  the  steps,  and  caught  his  visitor's 
hand  in  lx;th  of  his. 

"  To  see  you  again  is  like  wine  to  my  tired  spirL," 
he  said. 

Francis  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  greeting.  Such 
words,  from  his  father  or  Mr.  Fairwood,  would  have 
sounded  foolish  and  stilted,  but  from  the  master  of 
Hopeland  they  were  natural  and  sincere.  He  returned 
the  pressure  of  the  other's  thin  hands.  Dariza  led  the 
way  back  to  the  breakfast-room.  He  looked  more 
like  a  man  of  eighty  than  fifty-five.  Tall  and  of  frail 
build,  his  two  great  griefs  had  bent  him,  body  and 
spirit,  and  thinned  his  blood  like  a  fever.  And  he 
had  a  way,  recently  acquired,  of  turning  his  head 
suddenly  and  lifting  a  furtive  hand  to  his  eyes.    Some- 


isobel's  Future 


27 


times  he  would  smile  to  himself,  very  tenderly  and 
longingly,  and  that  was  more  pitiful  to  see  than 
tears. 

Francis  refused  a  second  breakfast,  but  accepted 
his  host's  offer  of  coffee  and  tobacco.  Isobel  soon 
entered  the  room,  and  spoke  to  Francis  in  subdued 
voice  and  with  a  fleeting  glance.  He  had  already 
given  the  sheets  of  bark  and  skin  containing  the  picture- 
writing  to  Dariza,  and  now  he  extended  the  Indian 
necklace  to  the  girl. 

"  Here  is  a  little  gift  that  I  have  brought  out  of  the 
wilderness  to  you,  Isobel,"  he  said.  "  I  was  told  that 
it  once  belonged  to  an  Indl  a  princess." 

Isobel  flushed  and  hesitated. 

"  It  is  very  valuable,"  she  said,  and  glanced  appeal- 
ingly  at  her  father. 

"  Take  it,  dear,"  said  Dariza.  "  You  need  have  no 
scruples  about  accepting  any  gift  from  Francis  Dru-ie." 

Both  knew  what  he  meant,  for  of  late  he  had  often 
spoken  of  the  place  that  Francis  had  taken  in  his 
alTcctions  since  the  loss  of  his  son. 

Drurie  fastened  the  splendid,  glowing  thing  about 
the  girl's  neck.  His  hands  trembled  as  he  did  it,  and 
a  mad  desire  to  stoop  and  touch  his  lips  to  the  white 
flesh  beneath  his  fingers  went  through  him  like  fire. 
But  instead  of  that  he  said,  in  a  level  voice:    **  It  has 


28 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


a  difficult  catch,  but  I  think  I  have  fastcncl  ii  prop 
erly." 

Soon  afterward  Isobcl  left  the  room.  The  two  men 
sat  silent  for  a  long  time,  sipping  their  colTce  and 
smoking  their  silver  tobacco-pipes.  Clay,  as  material 
for  pipes,  vas  not  yet  popular  with  the  gentry,  either 
in  England  or  the  colonies. 

"  Francis,"  said  Dariza  at  last.  "  I  feel  tliat  I  am 
not  much  longer  for  this  world." 

Drurie  looked  at  him  in  consternation. 

"  It  is  so,"  continued  the  other.  "  No  skill  of  ours 
can  alter  it  —  the  message  is  in  my  heart.  I  am  an  old 
man — not  in  years,  but  in  life  —  and  the  taste  for 
earthly  pleasures  is  dead  in  me.  I  think  that  I  shall 
never  again  see  the  tobacco  harvested  iiom  these 
fields." 

He  paused  and  smiled  gently  at  his  friend.  Francis 
paled  a  little,  and  breathed  quickly,  but  could  find  no 
word  to  say. 

"  Do  1  ot  pity  me  for  feeling  the  approach  of  death,'' 
continue;!  Dariza.  "That  which  seems  horrible  to 
you,  with  youth  and  courage  and  love  your  servants, 
is  a  thing  sweet  to  me.  Death,  I  take  it,  is  no  more 
than  a  change  of  habitation  and  a  widening  of  vision; 
a  change  from  this  narrow,  grief-stricken  house  to  a 
place  where  the  eyes  of  love  shall  brighten,  never 


Isobcl's  Future 


29 


again  to  dim  with  suffering;  to  a  home  that  shelters 
no  dread  of  disruption.  There  my  dearest  friend 
awaits  me  —  the  woman  I  love  —  in  that  bright  house 
where  neither  pain  nor  misunderstanding  may  enter." 

He  leaned  forward,  his  arms  upon  the  table,  and 
his  bright,  dark  eyes  holding  the  younger  man's  fas- 
cinated gaze. 

"  I  do  not  speak  as  a  poet  or  a  dreamer,"  he  said, 
"  but  as  a  man  who  has  lived  and  suffered,  and  taken 
joy  of  the  world,  and  read  men  and  books,  and  sifted 
the  teachings  of  the  churches,  without  fear  or  prejudice, 
as  food  for  my  needs.  So  I  am  ready  to  go  joyfully  — 
save  for  one  fear  —  one  regret." 

Drurie  tried  to  ask  the  question. 

"  It  is  this,"  went  on  Darizci.  "  My  boy  may  still 
live,  disgraced,  suffering,  and  unbefriended." 

There  was  such  agony  in  the  old  man's  eyes  that 
Francis  turned  away. 

"  I  have  none  of  this  fear  at  thought  of  leaving 
Isobel,"  said  Dariza.  "  She  is  with  relatives  and 
friends,  sheltered  and  loved.  But  my  boy!  God,  if  it  is 
that  he  lives,  and  is  in  need  of  trust  and  tenderness, 
and  should  come  home  some  day  and  find  me  gone! " 

"  Do  you  think  he  may  be  —  be  alive  ?  "  asked 
Francis,  scarce  above  a  whisjser.  "  If  so,  sir,  how  is  it 
that  he  has  not  come  home  before  this?"    His  voice 


* 


30 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


grew  surer.     "  In  good  fortune  or  evil,  Dick  Dariza 
will  never  lack  a  friend  so  long  as  I  draw  breath." 

"  Noble  heart,"  said  the  old  man.  He  extended  a 
thin  hand,  and  clutched  Drurie's  wrist.  "  My  heart 
aches  with  the  doubt  of  his  fate,"  he  whispered.  "  How 
gladly  should  I  welcome  the  sure  news  of  his  safety  in 
death.  If  he  lives,  the  life  of  the  outcast  is  his.  Dear 
God,  why  did  I  let  him  from  my  sight  ?  " 

He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept  silently. 
Francis,  unspeakably  embarrassed,  did  his  best  to 
comfort  him.  He  laid  a  timid  hand  on  the  thin,  quaking 
shoulders. 

"  Do  net  fret,  sir,"  he  murmured.  "  If  Dick  is 
dead  you  may  be  sure  that  he  died  like  a  gentleman,  for 
all  this  talk  of  his  crime  of  killing  a  superior.  If  he 
lives,  then  if  ever  I  hear  of  him  I  shall  find  him,  though 
the  search  lead  me  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  And  in 
whatever  position  I  find  him  —  high  or  low,  rich  or 
poor,  in  bondage  or  in  power  —  I  shall  claim  him  as 
my  friend,  and  serve  him  with  all  my  heart  and 
strength." 

At  last  the  stricken  eld  man  grew  calm,  and  looked 
his  young  friend  fairly  in  tiic  face  again. 

"  I  had  no  right  to  show  you  my  sorrow,"  he  said. 
He  gazed  through  the  long  windows  and  across  the 
sunlit  lawns  to  the  rounded  woods  of  his  brother-in- 


Isobel's  Future 


31 


law's  park.  "  For  Obeis  futinc  I  do  net  worry,"  he 
said.  "  She  is  shel'. rcl.  and  ^h^  world  is  on  her  side. 
Henry  Fairwood  wil'  bo  her  (rua.dian  when  I  am  gone. 
He  loves  her  as  if  she  were  his  own  daughter.  But  I 
do  not  think  his  guardianship  will  last  long.  That  a 
younger  man  will  soon  take  his  charge  from  him  I  have 
not  a  doubt." 

Young  Drurie's  blood  drummed  in  his  ears,  and  he 
felt  his  cheeks  tingling.  What  was  Dariza  going  to 
say,  he  wondered?  A  sweet  hope  flooded  his  brain 
and  heart  like  music.  But  the  old  man  did  not  look 
at  him.  Quite  unconscious  of  the  young  man's  emo- 
tion, he  said: 

"  John  is  a  good  fellow.  For  myself  I  like  men  of  a 
more  adventurous  spirit;  but  the  other  kind  makes  the 
more  comfortable  husband.  Yes,  John  is  a  safe  man; 
and  if  a  young  lady  takes  a  fancy  to  him  I  consider  it 
a  safe  fancy.  If  he  does  not  catch  my  eye  as  some 
ethers  do  the  fault  is  mine;  for,  a  man  of  books  and 
reveries  myself,  my  taste  is  all  for  men  of  action.  I 
saw  a  deal  of  sword-iron  and  smoke  when  I  was  a  young 
man,  and  books  have  seemed  a  limp  and  sapless 
enterprise  to  me,  in  spite  of  my  honest  application  to 
them.  The  reading  of  love-passages  will  never  take  the 
place  of  kissing;  and  even  so,  when  I  follow  the  turns 
and  chances  of  armed  conflict,  up  and  down  printed 


i- 


32 


P 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


pages,  some  smoke  from  my  own  youth  and  a  veil  of 
blood  of  my  own  spilling  crawl  between  my  vision  and 
the  book.  Then  I  see  the  truth  —  the  worth  of  the 
reality  and  the  worth  of  the  shadow." 

Francis  murmured  a  polite  assent  to  the  old  gentle- 
man's words.  Had  they  been  spoken  in  Dutch  he 
would  have  done  the  same,  for  not  a  phrase  had  he 
heard  after  the  reference  to  John.  So  that  was  settled, 
was  it?  Isobel  loved  John!  That  explained  her 
unusual  quiet  and  her  objection  to  being  kissed. 


CHAPTER  IV 


I! 


AN  OFFER  OF  EMPLOYMENT 

Francis  had  not  been  home  long  when  a  letter 
arrived  for  the  captain,  from  Bristol,  in  the  care  of 
Stephen  Todd,  master  of  the  good  ship  Merryweather. 
It  was  from  a  wealthy  baronet,  who  had  been  a  ship- 
mate of  the  captain's  in  the  old  days;  and  the  heart 
of  it  was  the  offer  to  Francis  of  a  berth  with  an  expedi- 
tion bound  for  Hudson's  Bay.  It  was  quite  evident 
that  the  captain  !iad  been  corresponding  with  his  old 
friend,  and  had  not  failed  to  state  his  younger  son's 
qualifications  for  any  adventurous  work  on  sea  or 
land. 

The  expedition  was  to  sail  from  Bristol  in  May  of 
the  next  year.  It  was  a  venture  of  the  Royal  Com- 
pany cf  London  and  Bristol  Adventurers,  designed  to 
establish  a  settlement  in  the  wilderness  of  the  far 
north  and  open  up  a  trade  in  furs  and  precious  metals 
Avith  the  natives  of  that  little-known  land.  The  French 
were  already  at  work  there,  but  all  the  world  knew 
that  it  was  English  territory.    The  expedition  would 

88 


5- 


34 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


consist  of  four  vessels  at  least,  all  armed  like  pirates, 
and    each    carrying    two    commanding   olTicers  —  th 
military  commander  and  the  sailing-master,  or  navi- 
gator.   Francis  would  be  given  the  military  command  of 
one  of  the  vessels. 

The  baronet  went  on  to  say  that  there  was  nothing 
unsound  alx)ut  the  venture;  that  he  himself  had  taken 
shares  in  it  to  the  cost  of  five  thousand  jXDunds,  and 
expected  a  return  of  at  least  fifty  per  cent,  profit.  In 
all  sincerity  he  advised  his  old  brother-in-arms  to 
invest  at  least  a  thousand  in  it.  He  would  reserve 
shares  to  that  amount,  on  the  chance. 

This  letter  put  even  the  hunting  in  a  second  place 
with  the  people  of  tlic  three  estates.    Francis  accepted 
the  olTer  upon  the  moment  of  hearing  it,  but  liis  rela- 
tives and  friends  fell  into  argument,  the  smoke  and 
dust  of  which  dirl  not  s.ule  for  a  month.    When  they 
talked  to  Francis  one  would  think  thai  thdr  lives,  not 
his  life,  were  to  be  risked,     \\hen  they  sjxjke  to  the 
captain  one  would  think  tliat  their  m(mey,  not  his,  was 
to  be  cast  upon  the  waters.    By  the  way  the}-  talked  it 
over  among  them.-^elvcs  one  would  tliink   that  some 
crime  was  contemplated  by  the  captain  and  Francis. 
Only  ^Ir.  Dariza  and  Joskins  were  in  sympathv  with 
the  adventurers.    Mr.  Dariza  explained,  at  great  length, 
that  an  expedition  of  this  kind  was  a  greater  thin- 


rtmtL. 


-"•""'"^'^'■''-gwjMi 


An  Offer  of  Employment  35 

than  any  crop  of  tobacco  that  had  ever  been  raised 
and  sold  in  \'irginia. 

"  If  our  fathers  had  all  sat  at  home,"  said  he,  "  who 
would  now  be  taking  their  ease  in  Admiral's  Pride  and 
Fairwood  Manor?" 

As  for  the  old  ox-gunner's-mate.  Joskins,  why,  he 
was  in  two  minds  about  whether  or  not  he  should  join 
the  expedition  himself. 

"  I'd  do  it,  beyond  a  doubt,  if  it  wasn't  that  I  be 
well-nigh  sevcnty-five  year  old  and  so  infernal  totterish 
in  the  legs.  A3e,  Master  Frank,  there  be  no  life  in  the 
whole  wide  world  equal  in  sport  and  eddication  to 
burnin'  powder  and  makin'  new  landfalls.  Ye'll  be 
sightin'  pirates  and  Frenchmen,  I  take  it." 

John's  objections  to  his  brother's  joining  the  expedi- 
ion  were  half-hearted;  but  his  argument  against  the 
investment  of  a  thousand  pounds  in  the  stock  of  the 
Royal  Company  of  London  and  Bristol  Adventurers 
was  sincere  enough,  and  became  in  time  far  too  per- 
sistent to  suit  the  captain.  Master  John  was  told  to 
mind  his  own  business. 

At  last  it  became  an  accepted  fact  that  Francis 
should  set  sail  for  England  in  about  seven  months- 
time,  with  his  father's  investment  in  his  pocket,  and  in 
Bristol  take  command  of  his  ship  and  up-anchor  for 
the  desolate  seas  of  the  north,    \\iien  every  member  of 


kri/'i- 


36 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


the  household  was  convinced  of  this  the  captain  said; 
"  And  now  we'll  hear  no  more  about  it  at  the  dinner- 
table."  So  that  was  the  end  of  it  as  a  subject  of  general 
argument  and  ill  nature.  But  in  the  quiet  of  her  own 
room  ^Irs.  Drurie  was  already  knitting  stockings  of 
amazing  thickness  for  her  baby  to  wear  in  the  chilly 
north. 

Francis  was  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  so  good  a 
berth  with  so  enterprising  an  expedition.  The  love 
of  the  sea  was  in  his  blood;  and,  though  he  had  won 
his  spurs  in  the  forests  of  the  West,  with  inland  planters 
and  pioneer  riflemen  beside  him  and  painted  savages 
m  front,  it  was  his  intention  to  win  fame  as  a  lea 
fighter  and  to  try  his  hand  as  soon  as  possible  at  a 
ship-load  of  Frenchmen. 

He  saw  in  this  oifcr  of  the  baronet's  the  initial  step 
to  a  whole  life  full  of  adventure  and  glorv.  From  dis- 
tinguishing himself  as  the  military  commander  of  one 
of  the  company's  ships,  he  would  go  on  to  a  commission 
m  the  royal  navy.  He  had  an  idea  that  some  day  the 
picture  of  another  admiral  would  hang  in  the  dinin<T- 
room  of  Admiral's  Pride.  But  as  surelv  as  he  was  satis- 
fied with  his  worldly  prospects,  just  as  surelv  was  he 
dissatisfied  with  the  present  state  and  future  promise 
of  something  that  lay  -  though  le  would  not  admit 
It  —  still  closer  to  his  heart. 


An  Offer  of  Employment 


37 


Mr.  Dariza's  plan  for  Isobel's  future  did  not  suit 
him  at  all.  Isobel's  attitude  suited  him  still  less. 
Before,  ever  since  their  very  first  meeting,  she  had  always 
treated  him  as  her  dearest  friend.  He  could  find 
neither  comfort  nor  reason  in  this  transferring  of 
affection  from  himself  to  his  brother  John.  It  "was 
unjust.  If  he  had  been  to  Isobel's  taste  when  she  was 
seventeen  years  of  age,  why  was  he  not  still  to  her  taste  ? 
In  what  way  had  he  changed  between  his  departure 
for  the  West  and  his  return?  What  had  he  done  to 
lose  first  place  in  her  affections? 

And  what,  in  the  name  of  all  the  devils,  had  John 
done  to  gain  it?  When  Isobel's  kisses  had  meant  little 
to  Francis,  they  had  been  his  for  the  asking.  Before 
that  again,  when  they  had  been  a  decided  embarrass- 
ment, he  had  not  been  able  to  avoid  Lhem.  And  now 
that  he  wanted  to  kiss  her  —  when,  to  tell  the  truth, 
he  could  thmk  of  nothing  that  he  wanted  to  do  quite 
so  much  —  she  would  not  let  him. 

Labouring  under  the  absurd  belief  that  he  knew 
the  ways  of  women  as  well  as  he  knew  the  science  of 
savage  warfare  and  the  anatomy  of  a  horse,  he  decided 
that  Isobel  Dariza  was  mercenary  —  and  that  her 
father  was  mercenary  —  and  that  all  the  blessings  of 
life,  save  hard  knocks,  were  reserved  for  elder  sons. 
He  came  to  this  conclusion  without  heat,  reasoning 


m 


it*^* 


& 

t^. 


-# 


38 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


'^Z3^ 


Isobel  made  two  attempls  to  discuss  the  pmspectfve 
voyage  wnh  Francis;   but  his  reserve  was  such  thi 

tzr  ^^"" '"" '° ""  ^""^•^  "»•"  --""^ 

A  small  seaport  to,v„  lay  within  ten  miles  of  Ad- 
™  aPs  Pr,do.  There  were  coasfng-schooners,  fl«. 
boats  from  up  the  river,  and  now  .-rd  then  a  vessel 
om  ,hc  deep  sea.  The  whole  town  smacked  of  foreign 
ands  and  bnsk  adventure.  There  was  a  wharf  Z 
here  were  old  sailors  in  their  cottages  and  saitytlio" 
,-  m  inc  tavern.  Here  was  the  square  in  which 
he  cargoes  <  f  .Urieans  were  sold  to  the  planters,  and 

me  h(,.j,'is  of  cast-bound  ship^. 

Druri^ti^dt"'   "  ""   """"  ^"'^''^''-   F^^cis 
ttun.  pa.d  frequent  v.sits,  riding  over  on  Jumper  at 

the  threshold  of  a  room  in  which  he  knew  that  he°was 
soon  to  do  great  deeds;  or,  ,„„ro  aptiv,  on  the  Lrcl^^o 
a  vast  house  full  of  ^r»ns  an<;  chambers  as^«  ™ 
known  to  h.m,  yet  among  whom  he  was  to  LTe 
fnends  and  foes  and  live  out  hi,  life 
Seme  such  though,  came  ,o  Francis,  and  held  his 


Offer  of  Employment  39 

teU  JT"""  "'"  '"  """'""  "■'  ""■  -"-d  shell." 

backs  m  thcr  cottages  as  actors  who,  no  longer  active 

nofgh  to  take  their  parts  in  the  great  "  doings  'Xn 

had  been  firn,,,-  b„t  kindly  pushed  £,.,n  theti,  J 

h.m  that  they  always  sat  with  a  sidewise  tilt  of  the 
head    .s.e„.„g.   ^,  ,,  ,„^,^  ,^^,  .^  ^^^       J^of  the 

of  old  thmgs  that  they  listened,  rather  than  for  any 

voice  fiom  the  dusky  future  ' 

He  became  a  regular  visitor  a.  t„o  or  three  of  the 

«..  ages,  cheenng  the  old  sailors'  hearts  a„,l  f  J„l 

tor   tongues  and   memories   with   good   linuor  ™f 

obacco,  and  listening  to  vahant  tales  of  the     a  Tor 

hours  on  ,„u.    Afc,  he  pairf  .Uits  ,0  the  harbou.  side 

.a,™  whenever  a  seagoing  craft  of  anv  kind  was  „ 

humble,  pla.vers  of  the  great  game  who  had,  a  it  uer°e 
but  stepped  out  tc  .he  j„rch  for  a  mouthk,,  „f  ^^^ 

Francs  mde  together  to  King's  Haven.     Relations 

nveen  these  two  had  been  somewhat  strained  ev 
^nce  the  first  ,v„rd  of  the  Bristol  expedition.    Sharp 

hmgs  had  been  said  by  both;  but  John  had  uncovered 
a  mean  stripe  in  his  character  that  was  haZ  o 
forget  t.han  any  number  of  angry  words.    Hefto 


40 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


great  estate,  he  had  objected  to  the  risking  of  a  thou- 
sand pounds  lor  the  advancing  of  his  brother's  in- 
terests. 

Of  late  he  had  begun  to  see  what  a  poor  figure  he 
had  cut  in  that  affair.    It  required  no  great  power  of 
imagination  to  know  what  Francis  felt  about  if    so 
for  the  past  fortnight,  John  had  been  working  hard  to' 
reestablish  himself  in  his  brother's  good  opinion     It 
was  slow  work,  however;    for  Francis,  hurt  and  de- 
pressed to  a  greater  extent  than  he  himself  knew,  over 
the  affair  about  which  he  must  keep  silence,  made  no 
effort  to  forget  or  forgive  the  injustice  of  this  other 
matter.    True,  th      ,oney  was  to  be  risked;  but  John's 
fault  was  the  same,  for  all  that. 

During  the  ride  the  talk  was  half-hearted  and 
scanty.  Upon  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  harbour,  the  brothers  saw  a  small  brig  lying  at 
the  wharf.  The  common-room  of  the  tavern  was 
crowded  with  sailors,  longshoremen,  and  townsmen. 

In  the  inner  room,  to  which  the  gentlemen  from 
Admird  s  Pnde  were  led,  sat  an  old  fellow  with  a  head 
lue  a  drmd's,  and  a  body  like  a  cask.  His  frosted 
beard  lay  hke  a  cascade  on  his  breast,  and  his  mous- 
aches  ilared  from  his  cheeks  like  wings.  His  face  was 
bron-n  his  eyes  were  small,  and  gray  as  ice.  He  was 
dressed  m  weather-beaten  blue,  with  sea-boots  reaching 

ft 


/Lsr^/  •■- 


An  Offer  of  Employment  41 

half-way  up  his  thighs.  His  right  hand,  clinched  on 
the  table  beside  his  glass  of  hot  rum,  looked  like  the 
knob  of  some  curious  club. 

"  ^°°^  "'"^'■"'"g  to  you,"  said  Francis  pleasantly 
The  old  fellow  stared  offensively  for  a  moment; 
then,  without  a  word,  he  lifted  the  glass  to  his  gusty 
moustache  and  drained  it  to  the  lump  of  sugar  in  the 
bottom.    John  flushed  red  with  indignation. 
Francis  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  your  manners  are  not  of  the  best,  shipmaster." 
said  he.  t-  , 

At  that  the  mariner  thumped  on  the  table  with  his 
great  fist  and  bellowed  for  the  landlord  to  lay  aft. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  STRANGE   LETTER 

MiVE  host  opened  the  door  and  thrust  his  head 
cautiously  around  the  cd<,'c  of  it 

''Brou./'  said  Frands,  "bring  me  a  fair-sized 
boul  a  bottle  of  Barbados  rum,  a  pint  of  French 
brandy,  a  pint  of  sherry,  red  bitters,  tuo  lemons,  four 
I'mes,  spice,  sugar,  and  boiling  water.  I  am  goin.  to 
try  my  hand  at  mixing  a  '  Billy-rough-un  '  jnmch '' 

^'^tcady  there,  cook!  Bring  me  another  of  these 
here  buckets  o'  honest  Jamaica  stulV,"  roared  the 
manner, 

"  ^"^  I   ^vant  you  to  try  my  punch,"  said  Fran- 

"  The  deuce  take  your  punch,"  replierl  the  mariner 

^hn  was  for  Iea;ing  the  room;    but  Francis  gave' 

h'm  to  understand  that  there  was  sport   afoot,   and 

coaxed  h,m  mto  a  chair  beside  the  hearth.     He  drew 

ins  own  chair  up  to  the  table. 

sai7  '''  ^^^^  ^''"  ^'^  ^  ''^"^'''  '''''  ^""'^  "'  ^^'^'"  h^ 

42 


A  Strange  Letter 


43 

The  mariner  glared  like  a  wild  beast  at  bay  ' 

"  I  am  proud  to  meet  such  an  honest,  outs,«ken 
ough.«.a,her  ,ump  of  a  son  or  Neptune,"  J.inuc^i 
Hanas     •■I,  „  „,,„  a,  ,„„  „^„  ^,^.^_^ 

hearts  of  the  Frenchmen,  for  .hey  are  polite  people 

the  kMT  n  ""r"  ""'"""^  ■'""  "  '-'«•  -•    That's 
he  km,   I  l,ke,  for  rough  and  <la„gerous  work.    Vou 

smell  of  rum  and   bilge-water.     You  fear  notedy 

^nu  an.  ,  e  kind  .;  man  I  like  to  thir.     .f'a,  J: 
linually  nskmg  a  dee[>.sea  grave." 

s,aicd"rT  ""■  'if''  '"  ''"  """'■     The  mariner 
su   d  a,  Lrancs  w„h  more  of  amazement  and  less  of 

-a"    d  lo  Ti  ''\'*"-  '•*"^''  f--    He  had  never  been 
"al^cd  to  l,k,   u,at  before.     What  was  the  voungster 
■Irnrng  at.    He  was  grinning  in  very  friendK-  fashion 
-y^vay.    The  old  fellou  gruntal  uneertainlv.  ' 

Thats     better,"    said     Francis.      "I    knew   the 

n,omemr  laid  eyes  on  you  that  you  were  a  sociaHe 
f  "ow  at  hear,.    Sociable,  but  reserved.    That's  the 

i^ed  old"",        \    '  '""'  '""^  """■  ^""^  '"-- 

lis       T  '    '   °'  '"''^"^  ™    ">*  '^™''  »d 
Itlgth."        ■    ""    "'■  ■"^"   "*°  "^^^  England's 

"Be  ye  drunk  ?  "  asked  the  mariner,  with  a  dawn,in» 

iignt  01  micrc'st  in  his  eyes.  ° 


f4^ 

r! 


44 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"Most  assuredly  not.  Do  I  look  it?"  returned 
Francis  gravely.  That  was  a  shot,  right  enough.  He 
heard  John  clmckle. 

"Oh,  ye  look  right,  aloft  and  alow!  but  ye  mav 
name  me  for  a  cobbler  if  ever  I  heard  such  fool  talk 
afore  m  all  my  life."  replied  the  other.  He  turned 
toward  John.  "  Would  ye  say  now  that  this  young  man 
be  pokm'  fun  at  me  ?  "  he  asked. 
Francis  answered  for  himself. 

"  There  was  a  deal  of  truth  in  what  I  said,  and  it 
was  meant  more  seriously  than  it  sounded,"  he  said  in 
a  friendly  voice  and  with  an  engaging  smile. 

"  It  sounded  danged  queer  to  me,"  grum^  .  the 
mariner. 

;  ^V^».  however  that  may  be,  we'll  shake  hands  on 
It,  said  Francis.  Quick  as  the  words,  his  hand  was 
up  in  the  air,  close  under  the  whiskers  of  the  bewil- 
dered, sulky,  half-awakened  old  salt.  His  bright 
whimsical  gaze  shot  a  command  into  the  depths  «; 
that  clouded  brain  that  could  not  be  resisted.  The 
old  follow  glared  and  snorted  with  uncertainty  for 
half  a  mmute;    then  the  big,  gnarled,  root-hke'  paw 

<'Pened,  lifted  from  the  table,  and  enclosed  the  hand 

ot  the  young  soldier. 
A.  >l,a.  n,„™™,  Brown  cntcrcl  with  ,hc  ma.erials 

for  ,l,e  ma.:,„g  „f  .,,0  ,,„„ch.    He  gasped  and  gaped 


A  Strange  Letter 


45 


at  the  picture  made  by  Master  Francis  Drurie  and  the 
unsavoury  mariner. 
"  Stir  your  stumps,  cook !  "  growled  the  man  of  the  sea 
The  tavern-keeper  recovered  from  his  amaz'^ment 
and  swiftly  rid  himself  of  his  burden.    He  deposited 
bottles  and   bundles  on   the  table,  stood  the  kettle 
of  boiling  w^ter  on  the  hob,  and  finally  placed  a  glass 
of  rum  and  water  at  the  mariner's  elbow.    It  was  a 
wonder  how  he  had  carried  them  all.    The  old  feUow 
mstead  of  complimenting  him  on  his  dexterity,  scowled 
furiously. 

"Take  it  away,"  he  shouted.  "Can't  ye  see 
ye  fish-eyed  son  o'  a  swab,  as  how  I  be  a  goin'  to  join 
this  gentleman  in  a  glass  o'  decent  licker?  " 

"  But  - "   began   Bro^-n  in  a  voice  of  righteous 
indignation.     The  mariner  interrupted  him  with  an 
oath  and,  snatching  up  the  glass  of  rum  and  water 
with  a  swiftness  of  which  one  would  not  have  thought 
the  big  list  capable,  let  it  fly.     Mr.  Brown  dodged 
The  glass   and   its  contents  splintered   and  splashed 
agamst  the  wall.     Mr.  Brown  slipped  from  the  room 
without  excusing  himself. 

Neither  of  the  gentlemen  made  any  comment  on 
this  remarkable  cxinbition  of  table- manners.  The 
throwing  about  cf  dishes,  liquors,  and  glassware  was 
not    entirely    unknown    even    in    the    best-regulated 


1  •'■ 


46 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


old  "a  ■  ^"'['^"'^  '"  ^  'h^  las.  bubble  of  the 
old  man  s  mtcmal  boiling.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  .«,/.,,  Then.  „,.h  eyes  and  ears  alerted 
a  benevolent  relaxing  of  the  jaws,  he  foliowed  The 
mixing  of  the  punch. 

John.  .V.  ,h,r  was  quue  s„re  as  to  quanluies  for 
Josktns  had  not  vet  taken  them  in  hand-  but,  as  thev 
knew  that  they  had  not  forgotten  any  of  he  ma  rwT 
hey  hoped  fo.  ,h,  best.  As  the  mi™,  p,"' 
the  manner's  interest  greiv  and  gre-,v  ' 

••  I  never  did  sec  »  many  good  lickers  and  ii^in's 
go  into  one  brew,"  said  K- 

Presently   he  began   to   sni/V,   and  drew  his  chair 
closer  to  the  bowl.  " 

It   was  done.     Three  glasses   were  fdled.     Three 

n.llj  -rough-tm  "  bec-n  brewed  even  bv  the  hand  ofThc 
-gunn„s-mate.    AH„  the  second  round,  John     ' 

nistory  of  the  great  punch. 

The  old  fcllov.-  was  impressed. 

"An  admiral,"  he  .said.    "  An  admiml  r,'  f 
WclUbedanged!    I  uere  once^'n  n  "' ''''^'• 

bosun's-mate     "IVas   n  n  ""'''  "''^^'^- 

-s.    I  s  never  forgot  'er/,  neither." 


A  Strange  Letter 


47 

He  told  them  many  stories  of  his  adventurous 
career,  and  all  the  details  of  his  last  vovage.  His 
shtp  was  the  G»««.  Cr^_  He  had  sailed  from 
I^ndon  ,h,r,y.five  days  before.  Yes,  he  had  felt  that 
"  "■•!"  "'^  '^^'  ™)"g<^-  The  pumps  had  been  kept 
™rk.„g.  day  and  night,  fr„„,  the  tenth  morning  out 
until  they  got  mto  the  harbour. 

wi^'.^"'  ™'  '"""'•     -^^  '''"'"'  ^''"ok  hands 
«ith    the    mas'er    of    the    GoUfn    Crown,    h     felt 

»rne.hmg   like   a   folded    paper  pressed  against  his 

flalhtar,''-  ""  "■"'•   ""'^^•"   *^I«-''  'he  salt, 
flashing    h,s   eyes    at    John's    elegant    oack  in  the 

doorway.    "  Figger  i,  out  on  the  quiet.    It  be  a  letter 
'";":."""■'  "'  ""  "'  "  >""  """^  "^  writ  all 

his^;"ke.."°*'  "'  ^''"*'  '"^  '"■"«  "^''-"y  »'o 

w  long  will  you  lie  in  King's  Haven?    I  want 

■  _e  another  talk  with  you  before  ,ou  sail  away," 

"I'll  lay  here  till  I  calk  me  seams  and  overhaul 

srnZviTf'   """''"'"   "P"^^    ^he   mariner, 
smilmg  hke  the  best-natured  soul  in  the  world. 

Th"  punch  had  thawed  John  as  well  as  the  ship- 


n 


L. 


48 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


master.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  potations  of  such 
length  and  strength  so  early  in  the  morning.  No 
sooner  were  the  two  gentlemen  in  the  saddle  than 
John  said: 

-  Frank,  you  have  a  way  with  ,vou,  and  no  mistake. 

.  hat  old  rogue  was  no  better  than  a  pirate  when  we  first 

set  eyes  on  him,  but  he  was  mild  as  new  butter  when 

we  left.     I  could  never  have  dealt  so  with  the  old 

rascal.     He'd  have  cracked  my  head  for  me  at  the 

first  word.     When  yea  are  sailing  the  seas,  you'll 

have  to  play  such  tric'cs  every  day.    You'll  find  these 

Ola  pitch-eatcrs  brisk  lads  to  keep  in  hand." 

Francis  laughed. 

"Oh,  with  that  punch,  one  could  come  around  the 
devil  himself!  "  he  said. 

John  laughed  as  if  a  very  good  joke  had  been 
cracked  His  usual  deportment  was  uncommonly 
sedate  for  one  of  his  age;  but  now  he  rode  hi^ii  in  bis 
stirrups,  bumping  and  swaying,  and  beamin^/to  ri^^it 
and  left.  ° 

"  You'll  make  a  great  sailor,  Frank,"  he  rri  -d  "  I 
en^y  you  your  career,  rip  me  if  I  don't!  A  man  can 
wm  a  ime  name  at  that  sort  of  work -and  a  fortune 
too,  hke  as  not.  It  is  not  the  highest  type  of  mind 
maybe -this  galloping,  slashing,  shooting,  sailing, 
type -but  'twill  do,  lad -'twiU  do.    And^'ou  com^ 


A  Strange  J^etter 


49 

honestly  by  it,  Frank.  There  were  a  dozen  of  such 
among  our  ancestors.  I  am  the  first  poet  of  the  family. 
But  It's  little  credit  I  get  for  that." 

"But  3'ou  say  that  Isobel  likes  your  verses -so 
why  do  you  complain?"  said  Francis.     You  must' 

not, magme  from  this  that  the  punch  had  befuddled  the 
soldier's  wits  at  all. 

'' Trve  -  true,"  said  John.  "  That  is  something,  to 
to  be  sure.  She  has  a  very  superior  mmd,  has  Isobel. 
she  is  a  fine  girl." 

It  came  to  Francis  that  he  might  just  as  well  have 
the  httle  pang  over  with  now  as  later.  He  did  not  want 
people  to  thmk  him  a  dog  in  the  manger,  as  the  saying 

"Yes,  she  is  a  fine  girl,"  he  said.  "If  I  ^-cre  a 
poet,  I'd  put  it  stronger  than  that.  .\nd  you  are  a 
lucky  man,  John." 

He  leaned  sidewajs  in  his  saddle  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  his  brother.  For  the  fraction  of  a  second  John 
looked  surprised.  Then,  flushing  a  little,  he  extended 
his  hand  and  pressed  that  of  Francis  swiftly  and 
strongly.  ' 

John  had  accepted  his  congratulations!  W^l 
there  could  be  no  question  about  it  now.  The  most 
hvdy  hope  in  the  world  could  not  keep  a-u^ng  against 
such  odds.    Francis's  heart  gu.  >  him  a  shrewd  tLge 


1-' 


i- 


i^ 


50 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


and  then  felt  as  empty  and  insecure  as  a  bubble     It 
was  worse  than  he  had  expected. 

T  r'.'.^^T  ""  '^"^'  ''^'  "^°"g  ^^''^hout  a  word. 
John  d,d  not  feel  comfortable.  He  knew  that  he  had 
no  nght  to  accept  his  brother's  congratulations;  for, 
hough  Mr.  Dariza  had  made  no  objections  to  his  suit 
Isobel  had  rejected  him  twice.  He  told  himself  that 
he  would  not  purposely  have  deceived  his  brother. 

He  had  been  taken  unawares.  Frank  had  made  his 
•Ue  spcec  ,  and  stuck  out  his  hand  so  suddenlv 
hat  ne  had  net  had  time  to  think.    And  the  punch 

ha    flustereci    i.  a  triHe.    In  fact,  it  was  all  Frank's 

taiilt  —  he  had  made  ihc  punch. 
Ii"t  uha,  ,|i,n,  „,„„.,    i^bel  was  sure 
say.      c...efore  long.    Oh,  .here  was  not  a  doubt 

of  «     She  had  not  been  able  to  give  any  reason  for 

r.d'T      \  r  ""  ™""'  ■■^■''^'  P"-"''  --n 
uU  of  duldtsh  uh.ms.    FecMng  sure  of  him,  i,  flattered 

her  pnde  to  refuse  l™.    John  was  full  oi  sueh  Tn 

vmcmg  arguments  like  these  -  but,  for  all  that,  he  did 

not  feel  quite  at  his  ease. 
The   uncomfortable  silence  soon   wore   itself  out 

and  fbr  the  remainder  of  the  journey  the  two  brothers 


mR'l^i!"-!  M: 


A  Strange  Letter 


51 


When  Francis  reached  home  and  the  quiet  of  his 
own  room,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  thing  which  the 
old  shipmaster  had  i,ressed  so  secretly  into  his  palm 
What  joke  was  the  fellow  trying  to  plav  on  him?  he 
wondered     Here  was  a  sheet  of  paper,  folded  and  re- 
folded and  sealed  with  red  wax.     The  outside  was 
black  with  grime.    Aaoss  it  was  written,  with  a  blunt 
qiull:       In  hand  of  Master  Job  Spark,  of  ye  Golden 
Crown.       Francis   broke   the   wax   and  opened   the 
sheet  with  mfinite  care.    And  this  is  what  he  read: 

"Frank: -If  ever  you  come  to  Bristol,  haste  to 
the  Cat  and  Rat.  You  wiU  find  the  master  a  small 
man  with  a  bald  head  and  a  purple  mark  on  his  left 
cheek  Gam  his  eye;  then  kr:ock  thrice  on  the  table 
with  the  knuckles  of  jour  right  hand  and  four  times 
With  the  knuckles  of  your  left.  He  will  then  come  to 
you  and  whisper,  '  Topsil.'    You  will  reply,  ■  Tagant- 

^  "  Whereupon  he  will  lead  you  aside  and  give  j-ou  full 
information  of  me;  and  if  I  happen  to  be  in  England, 
he  will  tell  you  where  to  find  me.  He  is  mv  friend  1 
have  talked  of  you  to  him  a  hundred  times.  Tell 
my  ather  that  I  am  alive  and  prospering,  but  not  a 
^vcrd  of  this  to  any  one  else.  I  am  not  in  need  of  money, 
but  I  am  m  great  need  to  see  you.     Master  Spark. 


I. 

ii 

•I 


52 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


who  carries  this,  is  a  trusty  man,  but  for  fear  that  it 
may  pass  into  the  wrong  hands,  I  must  sign  myself, 

"  Badger." 

Francis  read  the  strange  letter  twice  before  any 
light  came  to  him.  His  mind  and  heart  were  all  too 
busy  with  his  own  affairs.  It  was  the  word  "  Badger  " 
that  cleared  his  brain.  That  was  what  he  and  Isobel 
had  called  Dick,  years  ago,  and  for  no  reason  that  he 
could  remember.  Beyond  a  doubt  his  correspondent 
was  none  other  than  the  vanished  Richard  Fairwood 
St.  George  Dariza,  late  of  the  king's  navy  —  and  now 
of  the  Cat  and  Rat. 


!zmswim€ 


. 'JA 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BALL  AT  ADMIRAL'S  PRIDE 

Francis  Drurie  was  haunted,  night  after  night 
by  the  strange  letter  from  young  Dariza.    He  could 
understand  the  cautious  style  of  it,  for  he  knew  that 
the  poor  feUow  was  m  hiding  from  the  law.  charged 
with  the  murder  of  a  certain  Captain  Sir  Howard 
DiUmg.    But  what  he  was  to  gather  from  this  rigmarole 
of  knocks  on  the  table  and  a  friendly  tavern-keeper 
with  a  bald  head,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  think 
In  great  need  of  somethmg.  but  in  no  need  of  money' 
Now,  what  could  he  mean  by  that  ?   Was  he  in  danger 
of  his  life,  from  some  other  enemy  than  the  law? 

Before  telling  Mr.  Dariza  that  he  had  received  a 

message,  he  rode  to  King's  Haven  again.    He  found 

Job  Spark  in  an  agreeable  mood.     After  ordering 

•materials  for  the  famous  punch,  they  retired  to  the 

private  parlour. 

"  Master  Spark,  I  want  you  to  teU  me  something 
about  the  man  who  sent  that  letter  to  me."  said 
Francis. 

68 


ii! 


f 


■  «!fs-. 


54 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"Put  the  question,  Master  Dnirie,  and  maybe 
I'll  answer  ye,"  replied  the  mariner. 

"Is  he  in  trouble?" 

This  was  evidently  a  hard  shot  for  Master  Spark. 
He  pulled  at  his  long  moustaches,  glared  around  the 
room,  and  wiped  his  brow  with  a  huge  mahogany 
hand. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "ye  might  call  it  trouble— and, 
again,  ye  might  not.  He  was  safe  enouL'h  when  I 
left  him." 

"  What  work  does  he  do  ?  Is  he  following  the  sea?  " 
asked  Drurie. 

"  Aye,  ye  might  call  it  that.  He  he's  a  tine  sailor 
he's  Hodge." 

"Hodge!"  exclaimed  the  other  unguardedly. 

"  Aye,  that  be  your  friend's  name,  I  take  it."  The 
old  man  looked  at  the  young  man  with  a  s-ort  of  taunting 
humour  in  his  eyes. 

Francis  laughed.  He  read  the  old  fellow  like  a 
book. 

"  You  are  sharp,"  he  said.     "  But  you  are  honest 
and  so  am  I.    Hodge  may  be  his  name  now;   but,  as 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  he  had  another  once.     What 
that  was  I'll  take  it  for  granted  that  you  know  - 
and  say  no  more  about  it." 

Master  Spark  tried  his  best  to  look  as  if  he  knew 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride 


a 


great  deal  more  than  he  really  did,  and  to  hide 


55 


his 


.     .  .„  — V   "»u>  aiiu  lO  ni( 

curiosity.    All  this  was  plain  as  print  to  Francis 

Spark  nodded  his  head  sagely. 

''It  do  beat  all,"  he  said,    "'how  has  the  mighty 
fell  from  his  seat,  as  the  sayin'  is." 

"It   was  no  fault  of  our  friend's,"  said   Drurie. 
He  acted  just  as  jou  or  I  would  have  acted  in  the 
same  place     He  was  insulted  by  a  rascal,  and  gave 
him  the  he  fair  m  his  teeth.     So  he  was  asked  to  fight 
It  was  as  honest  a  fight  as  two  men  ever  engaged  in  - 
a   doctor     and    seconds,    and    everything   shipshape. 
Our  friend  was  the  better  shot  of  the  two,  hut  the 
other  man  belonged  to  a  more  powerful  family.     So 
^e  poor  fe  low  had  to  run  for  it,  and  change  his  name. 

Z      t      n  '>•    ''''  '^^-^  ^'^"^'^^  ^'"^  dead  unti 
now.    But  all  this,  of  course,  is  old  historv  to  you  " 

'Aye,  ye  might  well  say  «>."  replied 'the  mariner. 
But  It  was  not.  He  had  known  that  the  lad  called 
Hodge  was  a  gentleman,  but  had  never  been  able  to 
learn  anything  of  his  past.  The  old  sailor's  heart  was 
warmed  by  Drurie's  trust. 
By  this  time  the  punch  ,.  .  ready. 

"  What  manner  of  place  is  this  «Cat  and  Rat'?" 
asked  Drurie. 

"  A  tricky  place,"  said  the  mariner.     "  Not  fust 
the  place  for  gentlemen  with  rings  on  their  fingers  to 


if   - 


'W^ 


\kt\\       'A 


56 


A  Ca/alier  of  Virginia 


faU  asleep  in.  Aye,  sir,  ye  may  put  it  dow-n  as  a  chancey 
place  -  but  don't  ye  nam  me  for  sayin'  it.  No  harm 
m  sayin'  it,  mind  -  -h.t  mum's  the  word,  for  all 
that." 

"  From  this,  I  v'ather    hot  our  friend  is  in  a  rough 
and  dangerous  va,   of  bu'iness,"  said  Drurie  inquir 
ingly. 

Spark  leaned  clos    to  him. 

"  Ye  have  the  right  o'  it,"  h(   whis')ered.    "  Rough 
and  dangerous,  ye  may  well  say.    If  ye  have  anv  hold 
on  him,  sir,  get  him  clear  o'  that  crew.    Not  a^  huu 
I  mean  to  say  any  harm  o'  anybody  —  but  a  hint  be 
as  good  as  a  handspike  to  a  sharp  one  like  ye." 
Francis  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  frankness,"  he  said.  "  Not 
a  word  of  it  shall  go  any  further;  but  1  hall  not  forget 
your  hmt  or  vour  kindness.  I  hope  to  make  a  ovage 
to  Bristol  in  the  spring." 

Francis  Drurie  went  over  to  Hop<  ^and  that  evening 
after  his  second  talk  with  the  master  of  the  Golde^ 
Crowtt.  He  had  avoided  the  place  of  late.  He  found 
Tsobel  alone  in  the  hall,  seated  beside  a  fire  of  hickory 
logs.  He  looked  at  her  chin,  and  then  at  the  top  of  her 
head,  when  they  shook  hands.  He  would  not  allow 
himself  the  mournful  plea-are  of  looking  int.  her  eyes 
He  was  doing  his  best  to  forget  about  her  eves. 


The  Pall  at  Admiral's  Pride         57 


"  Vou  arc  asLamc 
be,"  she  said. 


('   yourself  — and  well  yoi:  nce(' 

His 


"  Ashamed    "  he  u  >eauM,  honesf     puzzle^ 
glance  met  hers. 

"  Why  have  desc-m^i  us?  .,  five  days  since 
you  vere  here.'  sh.  said  T,.  „  ^he  'lushed  suddenly 
and  return'  d  to  h«T  seaf 

Franas  I  t  that  1.^  w^       n,        ..  a       1  of.    She 
had  counte.    he  dav^  s.n,      .  ..a-      .hat  right 

hadsacto^tha  Xnd  ,,  ,,d  she  .ush?  It 
di.  not  look  o  him  .eat  .sh  of  guilt  -  which,  of 
CO.  r.^,  U  .K,  H  '  ,  been.  What  right  had  she  to 
play  with  n,m  aft  ving  him  away?    He  stared  at 

her  gravciy  until  h  r  eyelids  drooped. 

"V   i  used  to       ne  to  see  me  every  day,"  she  sa.. 
gently.  -"  ^' 

And  no       .a  cor       everyday.    I  thought  that 

h     Tl  '''•     "^^^^  "^  ^  ""g  i«  his  voice 

^  hat       had  x,ot  mtended.    Shejooked  up  quickly,  and 
''Own  .    un  B:    a  flash. 

Yo     are  rude,"  she  said.     "  You  must  have  lost 
yo.'-  manners  while  fighting  in  the  wilderness." 

"  ^  J^''      'y  *"^^  somethmg  while  I  was  away- 
-methin.  nportant  than  my  poor  manners,- 

repaedHan.        Then,  conscience-stricken  at  the  speech 
I  beg  yoxir  pardon  for  speaking  so,"  he  said. 


!  ■ 


58 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  What  did  you  lose  ?  "  asked  the  girl  without  turning 
her  head,  and  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

The  young  man  stared  at  her,  astonished  and 
angry.  At  that  moment,  to  his  great  relief,  Mr.  Dariza 
entered  the  hall.  He  walked  forward  and  met  the 
old  gentleman  half-way. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  in  private,  sir  ?  "  he  asked  in 
a  low  voice. 

Mr.  Dariza  glanced  inquiringly  in  his  daughter's 
direction,  but  she  was  gazing  intently  into  the  fire. 

"  Speak  to  me,  Frank  ?  Certainly,  certainly.  This 
way,  if  you  please,"  he  said  in  a  very  evident  fluster. 

Francis  followed  him  to  the  library,  puzzled  at  the 
uneasiness  of  his  manner. 

Mr.  Dariza  closed  the  library  door,  waved  the 
visitor  to  a  seat,  and  sank  into  one  himself  with  the  air 
of  a  man  spent  with  exhaustion.  A  red  spot  flamed 
in  the  centre  of  each  thin,  yellow  cheek,  and  his  black 
eyes  shone  with  a  feverish  brightness. 

"  You  are  ill,  sir,"  cried  Drurie  anxiously,  rising 
from  his  chair. 

The  master  of  Hopeland  motioned  him  back. 

"  It  is  of  the  spirit,  dear  lad.  Sit  do^vn,  I  beg  of 
you,"  he  said. 

But  Francis  st^^pped  closer. 

"  I  have  heard  from  overseas,"  he  said.    "  I  have 


The  Ball  at  Admirars  Pride  59 

heard  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  one  whom  we  love  -^ 
and  thought  lost  -  is  alive  and  pn>spering."  He  talked 
very  fast,  anxious  to  tell  all  -  all  that  he  could  tell  - 
without  startling  Dariza.     "  He  is  not  in  need  of 

W  n,  ^It^  '^'  '^'  °'  ^"^^°^'  ''^y  con^fortable, 
but  still  m  hiding.  He  is  known  by  an  assumed  name- 
but,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  old  tn,uble  will  soon  be' 
forgotten,  and  then  he  will  come  home  and  live  fear- 
lessly. But,  until  then,  he  cannot  be  too  careful  He 
wants  nobody  but  you  and  me  to  know  that  he  still 

Dariza  looked  dazed. 

"  P^'^^^o"!  are  >-ou  talking?  "  he  cried.  "  Do  you 
sj^ak  of  my  son -of  Dick?"  He  sat  straight  in 
his  chair,  only  to  sink  weakly  back  again.  His  frail 
body  shook  as  if  with  the  palsy. 

"  Yes  Dick  is  alive  and  well,"  replied  Francis. 
Then,  hastenmg  from  the  room,  he  returned  in  a 
moment  with  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  Mr.  Dariza 
swaUowed  a  little  of  it,  and  then  pushed  the  glass 
away  from  him.  He  puUed  himself  forward  in  his 
chair. 

"By  the  hand  of  an  old  shipmaster  named  Spark  " 
rephed  Drurie.  .  ^      ' 


60 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  Show  it  to  me,"  said  tlie  other.    "  Let  rae  read  it, 
lad,  with  my  own  eyes." 

Now,  Francis  had  guarded  against  this  bv  making 
a  copy  of  the  letter,  for  his  own  use  in  the  future,  and 
burnmg  the  original.  What  the  old  gentleman  would 
have  thought  of  the  mention  of  the  low  tavern  and  the 
purple-marked  keeper,  he  dared  not  contemplate  That 
he  would  have  suspected  the  worst,  and  suffered  more 
than  at  news  of  the  lad's  death,  there  could  be  no 
doubt. 

"  I  burned  the  letter,  for  fear  that  a  servant  might 
get  hold  of  it,"  said  Francis,  lying  coclly  in  a  good 
cause.    "  It  ,s  so  evident  that  Dick  wants  to  keep  his 
existence  a  close  secret  that  I  dared  not  take  the  slight- 
est risk  of  having  the  letter  go  astray." 
'       Mr.  Dariza  gazed  at  the  young  man  for  a  long  time- 
but,  as  the  other  returned  the  gaze  without  so  much  as 
the  flicker  of  an  eyelash,  he  said  at  last: 

"  ^  ^"^^'^  >'0"  did  right,  Frank  -  whatever  it  was 
you  feared.    Perhaps  you  burned  the  letter  for  Dick's 
sake,  and,  again,  it  may  have  been  for  mv  sake  " 
^^  ''  I  burned  it  for  all  our  sakes,"  replied  Francis. 
It  contamed  minute  directions  for  finding  him  in 
Bristol;    and  if  these  were  to  fall  into  untrustworthy 
hands -or  unfriendly  hands -he  would  be  in  con- 
stant  danger  of  his  life." 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride  61 


Mr.  Dariza  nodded  reflectively.  He  had  com- 
pletely regained  his  composure. 

"  But  what  of  the  fellow  who  brought  the  letter  across 
the  sea?  Was  there  not  great  risk  in  that?"  he 
asked. 

"  The  seal  was  unbroken.  Spark  is  a  rough  but 
trusty  man,  I  take  it,"  answered  Francis. 

"  I  must  talk  to  him,"  said  Dariza.  "  I  want  to 
hear,  fr^m  one  who  has  seen  it  with  his  o\vn  eyes,  that 
my  boy  is  alive  and  happy." 

"I  have  talked  twice  with  Spark,"  said  voung 
Drurie;  "  and,  though  I  do  not  doubt  his  'trust- 
worthiness, I  know  that  Dick  has  not  taken  him 
into  h-s  entire  confidence  concerning  his  past  and  his 
family.  Spark  knows  that  Dick  is  a  gentleman,  and  the 
victi.-^  A  mjustice  —  but  nothing  more. 

"  Once  he  learned  that  Dick  is  your  son,  the  whole 
story  would  be  his  for  the  asking.  Any  one  in  King's 
Haven,  where  his  vessel  is  lying,  would  give  him  all 
the  particulars.  And  who  can  sav  what  he  would  tell 
m  his  cups?  If  Dick  himself  has  not  trusted  him  with 
the  secret  of  his  past,  what  right  have  we  to  do  so? 
And  I  pn,  positive  that  Dick  has  not.  The  fellow  is 
even  ig.  .  .  •  of  the  fact  that  he  was  once  an  officer  on 
a  king's      i  J." 

"I  beUeve  you  are  right  again,  Frank,"  repUed 


f-, 


||. 


& 


I 


6-^ 


^a,r  :^'"«"''°>«'^youcan,W.  I  shall 
l«  at  p^ace  w,.h  this  world  I  am  leaving  i,  only  I 
can  fed  a,,surcd  ,ha.  ,he  lx>y  is  not  in  s„fferfng  and  has 
a  chance  of  attaining  happiness." 

England,  I  shaU  see  him  in  the  spring     sZTln 

:rrgf:t:rr.rT'-''"" 

„   s^'""^'"  "■»«  he  sails  only  on  short  vovaire, 
in  small,  coastwise  vessels."  TOyages, 

-Mr   Dariza  got  up  slowly  from  his  chair  and  un 
locked  a  drawer  h,  his  desk.    Fiom  this  he^ka 
Pur^,  which  he  handed,  without  opening  .oCcis 
I.  ™  a  large  purse,  of  stout  leather,  L  f^T^d 

.iv:f;:t::s;!ra:rjin"rf'''^^'^- '■"'- 
--.athjontt:rii7.rrhr^/-^ 

-no«  L.shironv-Trmor^t: 

ooara  a  coasting  vessel  " 

Jjjank  into  his  chai;  and  <»vered  his  eyes  with  Ms 


■  fJ'lP. 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride         63 


Francis  Drurie  soon  made  another  journey  to  King's 
Haven.    When  he  gave  the  fat  purse  to  Master  Spark 
with  a  brief  word  as  to  how  the  contents  were  to  bJ 
divided,  the  old  man's  eyes  gUstened  with  the  unmis- 
takable sheen  of  greed. 

He  opened  it  and  peeped  within.  He  pulled  out  a 
golden  coin  and  pinched  it  between  his  teeth. 

"How  d'ye  know,  mate,  but  what  I'll  keep  the 
whole  hundred  yellow  boys  for  meself  ?  "  he  asked  with 
a  leer. 

Francis  smiled. 

"You  cannot  frighien  me,"  he  said.  "I  know 
you  as  if  I  had  lived  with  you  all  my  life.  You  are  far 
more  likely  to  give  our  friend  the  whole  purseful  than 
keep  it  all  to  yourself." 

Master  Spark  looked  confused.  He  fortified  himself 
with  a  glass  of  punch. 

"Aye,  mate,  ye  be  m  the  right  o'  it  there.  Job 
Spark  would  never  rob  a  friend,  even  if  he  hadn't  a 
smgle  flat  un  to  buy  his  grog  with." 

The  weeks  wore  along;  and  the  Golden  Crmm 
tight  and  sound  aloft  and  alow,  and  freighted  with 
com  and  tobacco,  sailed  away  from  King's  Haven. 
The  months  wore  along;  and  early  in  March  invita- 
tions went  out  for  a  great  ball  at  Admh-al's  Pride  This 
was  to  be  in  honour  of  Francis,  who  had  made  his 


• 


tf 


64 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


plans  to  sail  for  Bristol  some  time  about  the  middle 
of  the  month. 

Since  his  visit  to  Homeland  to  tell  Mr.  Dariza  the 
news  of  his  son,  Francis  had  studiously  avoided  Isobel 
He  did  not  find  this  an  easy  thing  to  do.    It  went  sorely 
agamst    his   inclination,    and,   which   was   worse    it 
caused  comment  en  the  part  of  Mr.  Fairwood  -o'pen 
comment.    But  the  poor  lad  could  not  trust  his  self- 
control.    He  knew  that  if  the  girl  acted  again  as  she 
had  on  that  memorable  day,  he  would  cast  to  the  winds 
all  caution  and  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she 
was  betrothed  to  John.    He  saw  his  duty  in  the  matter 
as  rlam  as  a  pikestaff;  and  he  would  do  it,  though  the 
hca\-cns  fell. 

But  Isobel's  behaviour  caused  him  davs  of  worry 
He  could  think  of  no  reason  for  it  -  and  ^et  he  knew,' 
m  the  depths  cf  his  heart,  that  she  would  not  act  so 
for  i.le  amusement.  His  heart  cherished  her  image 
and  ciefended  her;  but  his  brain  told  him  that  she  was 
a  .u-t  He  listened  to  his  brain  during  the  hours 
of  dayhght  and  to  his  heart  at  night.  He  often  felt 
^■c^•  much  incHned  to  kick  .Master  John 

The  ball  was  to  be  held  on  the  sixteenth  day  of  the 
month.  On  the  morning  of  the  tenth  the  brig  Thrmh 
arm  ed  m  King's  Haven.  This  was  the  vessel  in  which 
Francis  was  to  make  the  voyage  to  Bristol.    She  was  a 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pride  65 


fuU  »eek  earher  than  expected;  but.  as  the  date  of  the 
baU  could  not  be  changed,  her  master  grumblingly  con- 
sented  to  wa,t  until  the  seventeenth  before  heading  east- 
ward  again  As  soon  as  her  cargo  of  mixed  wL  - 
sdks,  broadcloths,  laces,  firearms,  wigs,  small  swords, 
and  other  fancy  gear  from  England -was  out  of 
her  hold,  and  the  bales  and  hogsheads  of  tobacco 
under  the  hatches,  Francis  put  his  luggage  aboard. 
He  was  keen  to  get  to  sea  and  begm  his  adventures. 

wols      '"  ""'  "'"  "'""  ■•'  ^"'^  '°'^"  "- 
The  night  of  the  ball  arrived.    The  BuUers  came 
aU  the  way  from  Indian  Creek,  the  ladies  in  an  ark- 
l*e   sprmglcs  coach  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  the 
Scntlemen  r.ounted.     The  Sprigs  came  from  Sprig 
Towers,   twenly-six   miles   away.     Sir   Peter   Nash 
though  little  better  than  a  confirmed  invalid,  arrived' 
m  good  t,mc,  with  only  one  foot  m  a  stirrup,  the  other 
h  ndage,   to  such  a  size  that  it  would  not  go  in  the 
.ron.    There  were  dozens  of  other  fashionables,  from 
near  and  far      the  Fairfaxes,  the  Darlings,  the  Plums, 
and  so  on,  and  so  on.    There  were  old,  middle-aged  ani 
.'oung;  red  and  sallow,  ugly,  ordinarv  and  beautiful- 
clever   common-sensed  and  stupid.     But  of  all  that' 
"•ere  beaut.ful,  Isobel  Dariza  was  the  most  beautiful 
Every  rcom  of  the  ground  floor  of  the  great  hou« 


66 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


hummed  with  the  business  of  pleasure -the  singing 
of  the  fiddles,  the  swish  of  gliding  feet,  the  rippling 
of  laughter,  and  the  fine  clash  of  silver  and  glass  in  the 
dming-room.  About  the  kitchen  and  offices  the  negroes 
clustered.  In  the  stables  the  horses  of  the  guests 
munched  contentedly. 

Francis  Drurie  cautioned  his  heart  not  to  be  a  fool 
and  asked  Isobel  Dariza  to  dance  with  him. 

"  You  know  that  I  cannot  refuse  you  in  your  father's 
house,"  she  said. 

He  had  nothing  to  say  to  that.    He  had  a  right  to 
this  dance,  and  he  would  have  it.    He  had  so  few  rights 
that  he  was  determined  to  make  the  most  of  them 
To-morrow  he  would   be  on  the  sea.    To-night   he 
would  snatch  what  pleasure  he  could  out  of  a  very 
sad  affair.     Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  all  that  stir 
and  bght  and  merriment,  it  was  as  if  they  were  the 
only  real  people  in  the  world.    She  was  very  close  to 
him.    She  looked  up,  faidy  into  his  eyes. 
"  Why  have  you  deserted  me?  "  she  asked 
There  was  neither  coquetry  nor  an.^.r  in  her  voice 
nor  any  pretence  of  indifference. 

"  Because  I  cannot  choose  a  middle  course  "  he 
said  quietly.  He  would  tell  the  truth,  since  she  had 
asked  for  it,  and  !  .ve  done.  "  I  must  either  love  you 
v>r  keep  away  from  you.    I  am  a  poor  hand  at  play 


m^^M^ 


The  Ball  at  Admiral's  Pri 


ae 


67 


acting.     So,  as  you  arc  to  marry  John,  I  have  kept 
away  from  you.    It  has  not  been  easy,  I  assure  you." 

"Why  do  you  think  I  am  to  marry  John?"  she 
asked. 

Her  wonderful  eyes  were  still  raised  to  his,  open 
and  gleaming  to  their  bright,  dark  depths. 

"  It  was  told  to  me;  and  John  accepted  my  con- 
gratulations," he  replied,  his  voice  low-pitched  and  in 
splendid  control. 

"  It  is  not  true,"  she  said  with  restraint  that  meant 
more  than  a  passionate  outbreak.    "  I  shall  never  marry 
John.   I  have  told  him  so  many  times." 
"  My  faith: "  exclaimed  Francis  softly. 
Now  they  found  themselves  in  a  little  room  off  the 
library,  occupied  by  two  old  ladies  and  two  old  gentle- 
men,  who   were  plajing  cards  very  intentlv.     The 
only  candles   were  on  the  centre  of  the  card-table; 
the  corners  of  the  room  were  left  in  shadow. 

"It   may   bo,"   whispered   Francis   huskily,    "that 
you  —  that  you  care  a  little  for  some  one  else." 

He  could  not  hear  her  reply.    He  leaned  closer,  so 
that  he  could  see  her  face. 

■'  I  have  loved  you  —  more  than  life  itself  —  ever 
since  I  came  home  from  the  West,"  he  said. 

Again,  he  could   not    hear   her  reply.     Her  face, 
though  very  near,  was  turned  away. 


68 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"Isobcl!"  he  whispered. 

At  that  she  turned  to  him,  and  he  saw  that  her 
wonderful  eyes  were  gleaming  with  tears. 

What  marvel  was  tl  is!  And  the  card-players  still 
gazed  at  their  cards! 

"  You  must  not  cry,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  hurt  you.  I  shall  go  away  to-morrow  — 
and  never  trouble  you  again." 

"  Don't  you  know?  "  she  whispered.  "  Don't  you 
see  how  I  love  you!  I  have  loved  you  longer  than  you 
have  loved  me,  dear." 

He  drew  her  to  him,  and  touched  his  lips  to  her  lips 
and  eyes  and  brow.  And  the  card-players  did  not  look 
up  from  their  cards! 


m 


CHArTKR  VII 


% 


A   BREAKFAST    VISIT 

The  last  dance  was  finished.  A  few  of  the  .n.csts 
had  departed,  and  the  rest  were  asleep  under  the 
broad  roof  of  Admiral's  Pride.  The  lower  rooms 
were  in  silence  and  darkness,  but  here  and  there  a 
candle  shone  in  the  window  of  an  upper  chamber. 

Francis  had  moved,  for  that  night,  to  a  little  room 
in  the  attic.    On  the  next  night  he  \\ould  sleep  still 
farther  away  from  his  accustomed  bed;    but  he  gave 
this  no  thought.    He  took  off  his  laced  coat  and  silken 
breeches  and  packed  them  in  t!ie  leather  bag,  which 
were  the  only  articles  of  his  luggage  not  alreadv  aboard 
the   Thrush.     Then  he  dressed  in  a  ser^■iceable  s-iit 
of  blue.    By  this  time  the  .March  -  !awn  was  blue  against 
the  window. 

Francis  extinguished  the  candle,  and,  his  riding- 
boots  in  his  hand,  went  silently  from  the  room.  He 
passed  dov\'n  the  narrow,  uncarpeted  stairs  on  tio- 
toe. 

At  the  closed  door  cf  John's  room  he  paused  for  a 

69 


70 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


moment.    '<  No.    He  is  my  brother.    I  will  not  quarrel 
with  hiin."  he  muttered. 

He  descended  to  iho  lower  floor,  and  let  himself 
into  the  garden  bv  a  .ide-door.  There  were  no  leaves 
on  the  rose-busl.es.  The  whole  world  «-as  cloaked 
in  cold,  gray-blue  shadows.  The  earth  was  soft  and 
cold  underfoot.  Francis  pulled  on  his  boots  and  went 
over  to  the  stables.  A  .atch-dog  got  to  its  feet  and 
barked.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  familiar  voice  it 
lay  down  again,  silenced. 

One  of  the  grooms  on  night  duty  c.x^ned  a  stable 
rfoor  and  held  a  lantern  o^•er  his  head.  In  his  other 
hand  he  grasped  a  stout  .vhip. 

"  Baniaby,"  said  i  nncis,  "  I  want  j^ou  to  saddle 
Jumper  for  me  as  quietly  as  vou  can." 

"  Yesser.    Yes,  Master  fVank,"  'replied  the  groom. 

When  Jumper  was  kd  out,  and  Francis  mounted, 
Barnaby  said : 

"  The  young  lady  was  like  a  angel,  Master  Frank. 
A  1  us  Dlack  folks  says  so.  An'  all  us  black  folks  be 
mfernal  overjoyed  to  see  that  God  has  sent  under- 
standni'  to  ye.  Master  Frank.  Even  Barnaby  seed 
what  ,ve  was  blind  to,  sir.  Yesser,  I  was  near  Vryin' 
sometimes.  An'  her  a  angel,  if  there  was  ever  one,  ai,' 
not  a  lady  m  Virginny  to  name  alongside  her.  Yesser." 
^ou  are  right,  Barnaby,"  said  Francis. 


A  Breakfast  Visit 


71 


Yesscr.     But  why  docs  vc  sail 


.  ,„  -  furrcn  parts, 

sir?     returned  the  groom. 

"  I  wond.r  the  same  thing.  But  it  is  mv  duty 
She  will  not  let  me  shir'  .nyduty."  He  pressed  a  gold 
com  mto  the  groom's  hand.  -  You  are  a  good  bov 
Bamaby.  if  ever  you  see  the  young  ladv  in  danger,' 
try  to  help  her.  Your  arm  is  stronger  than  many  a 
gentleman's,  lad. 

•'  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  or  so,"  hr  said  finally 
and  trotted  away. 

Francis  Drurie  cantered  down  the  avenue  and  out 
to  the  highway.  His  brain  worked  intentlv,  back  and 
forth,  back  and  forth,  over  the  wonderful  thing  that 
had  o  -^e  to  him,  and  over  the  hi  re ,  nath  to  which  duty 
pointed 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  i.  ■    e"  li.c  ccld  agonv 
off.ar.    It  gripped  him  like  the     .■c.i  :,  xvound     He 
felt  the  ache  of  it  in  his  heart  and  lungs.     Through 
and  through  his  fevered  brain  {)assed  menacin^^  shajis 
-shapes  of  dangers  threatening  the  woman  he  loved 
He  gave  no  thought  to  the  risks  of  the  sea,  but  a  vision 
of  the  gray  distances  that  would  lie  between  lier  and 
his  protecticr,  ^^•clghted  his  spirit. 

Yet  she  wanted  him  to  go.    She  had  made  light  of 
his  fears.     "  Nothing  will  harm  me,"  she  had  said. 

I  shall  long  for  you,  day  and  night,  but  that  is  the 


72 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


part  of  a  woman  who  loves  a  man  worth  loving.  Though 
I  fear  that  I  shall  mn  ha\e  .Mrength  to  let  you  lea\-e  mc 
a  second  time." 

lie  brooded  over  tlie  words  that  she  had  said  to 
him  a  fcv^  hours  ago,  with  her  cheek  against  his  shoul- 
der. Surely,  if  fate  held  any  danger  for  her,  her  heart 
would  have  warned  her.  He  sent  Jumper  forward  at 
a  gallop.    He  outran  fear. 

What  could  hurt  her  in  this  peaceful  place?  Her 
father  would  protect  her.  Mr.  Fairwood  loved  her  as 
if  she  were  his  own  daughter.  Every  man  and  woman, 
black  and  white,  gentle  and  simple,  on  three  estates, 
would  defend  her  if  any  danger  appeared.  She  pos- 
sessed liealth,  youth,  and  wealth.  He  had  been  a  fool 
to  v.'orry. 

And  what  was  this  voyage  of  his,  when  bravely 
considered  ?  It  would  be  a  thing  of  the  past  in  a  year's 
time.  She  had  lived  eighteen  years  without  an  acci- 
dent; then,  why  fear  for  her  in  the  next  twelve  months  ? 

He  turned  and  gallojjed  back  along  the  way  he  had 
come.  He  passed  the  great  gates  of  Admiral's  Pride 
and  held  en  down  the  highway,  riding  at  a  clipping 
pace.  Jumper  needed  no  urging.  But  now  the  upper 
nm  of  the  sun  was  just  showing  above  the  eastern 
honzcn,  and  the  world  was  all  af^re  with  azure  and 
Up  a  gentle  hill  and   down   the  oiher 


.voimg  gold 


A  Breakfast  Visit 


73 


side  of  if  he  rode,  round  a  long  curve  and  past  the  gates 
ot  Fairwood  ^fanor.  Half  a  mile  beyond  this  he  drew 
rein  and  dismounted. 

Here  was  a  humble  gateway,  the  squat  stone  posts 
flanked  by  circular  groves  of  yew.  He  opened  the 
gate,  led  Jumper  within,  and  hitched  him  under  one 
of  the  trees  of  the  grove.  As  he  walked  up  the  short 
avenue  that  led  to  the  house  of  Hopeland  his  breath 
caught  in  his  throat,  and  he  could  hear  the  drumming 
of  eager  blood  in  his  head. 

All  was  quiet  about  the  house,  though  it  was  bathed 
m  light  from  its  foundations  to  its  clustered  chimneys 
Francis  moved  to  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  turned  and 
gazed  up  at  a  certain  window.    It  was  curtained  and 
lifeless.    Of  course  he  had  expected  nothing  else. 

For  all  that,  a  sudden  chill  crossed  his  spirit.  So 
he  stood  for  several  minutes,  gazing  helplesslv  and 
Icngmgly  up  at  the  blind  window.  Suddenly  his  hear^ 
tcld  him  to  turn  before  his  ear  gave  him  any  warning, 
and  turning,  with  open  arms,  he  caught  Isobel  to  his 
breast. 

She  wore  a  great,  red  cloak  over  her  ballroom 
finery.  Her  firm,  young  arms  were  bare.  He  felt  the 
cool,  yet  glowing,  touch  of  them  against  his  neck. 

"  Wh}-  are  you  standing  here  ?  What  did  you  expect 
to  see?  "  she  asked  presently. 


I 
I* 


74 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


u 


I  rode 


"I  did  not  want  to  sleep,"  he  replied 
until  sunrise. 

II  Then  I  came  here  to  look  at  your  ;.indoK." 
And  I  did  not  want  to  sleep,"  she  said.    "  I  have 
been  .^dering  about  the  poor,  leafless  gardens  since 
the  first  peep  of  dawn." 

She  laughed  at  that,  but  kissed  him  for  it 
sleep,    she  murmured,  nestling  close  to  him,  wUh  her 

^:srhrsr''""--^°-'--p'"««.e 

He  ,vas  about  to  reply  that  his  time  in  Virginia  was 
ar  too  short  to  thro,  away  in  sleep,  but  he  ^    d  r, 
to  forget  that  lor  the  moment. 

^^  ^' If  I  had  .Iej>t  I  should  have  dreamed,"  he  said; 
and  one  cannot  control  one's  dreams.     So  I  sta^•ed 
awake  to  think  of  you."  ' 

^^  "^^-1  that  i.  .:hy  I  stayed  awake,  too,"  she  said. 

in^td  of  t"  7'  ''''  '''''  '^^"^^  ^^  -^>-  -^"  -"> 

^^al  a  all!    Me  were  both  out  in  the  grav  dawn  -  and 

"•e  dui  not  [.now  it." 

.^  "We  know  it  now,"  replied  Francis,  and   proved 


A  Breakfast  Visit 


75^ 


They  walked  doun  the 
stood  patiently  under  a  tree 


av 


enue  to  where  Jumper 


Dear,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  thinkin.  hard  this 
-n,,ng.    If  ,ou  want  me  to  stay  in  Virghia,  I  l' 
stay -aye,  with  delight." 

"You  must  not  say  that,"  she  replied,  in  a  very 
small  voice.    "  We  must  not  think  only  of  our  happi 

-Id  th-t'-    r  t ''-'  ^^  -''' '''  ^-  ^"  -"  «- 

hat.    I  shall  be  brave,  dear.    When  you  return,  dearest 
how  I  shall  cherish  you!"  ' 

T^l^uu^^""".  ■■°"'"  ^'^^'P^^^^  ^^^"^^'^  brokenlv 
He  held  her  close.  "  Tell  me -do  you  feel  an v  fea^ 
of  the  future?"  he  asked. 

"No"  she  replied.     "I  prayed  this  mornin.    and 
suddenly  fea.  left  me;   and  I  knew  that,  though  sea 
and    ands  separate  us  for  a  little  while,  we  shall  live 

our  hves  together.    It  was  as  if  a  voice  had  said  it   o 
my  soul!  ' 

The  cITect  on  the  young  scliier  was  innan.  and 
-vender  u,.    Had  an  angc,  in  cctetial  „bo:.  apfL^ 
Wore  h,m  and  .old  him  thai  his  love  v.a,  Lk    his 
f«1,ns  of  py  and  security  could  have  been  no  greater 

T  ey  v,a,w  baek  to  the  ,,ouse,   hand  in   ,,and: 

B>  .  us  t,me  the  ser^-an.s  were  moving  al«ut  the  l„use. 

Wait  here  on  the  galler,,"  said  Iscbd.     "  I  „.iU 


m 


A  Cavalier  of  Vir^nnfa 


shp  in  and  up  to  my  room.  In  ten  mLnutcs  vou  must 
pound  on  the  door,  and  say  that  you  have' come  to 
breakfast.  T  shall  be  ready  to  entertain  vou  until 
breakfast-time  -     and  that  is  not  for  hours  yet." 

"  .And  I  must  speak  to  your  father,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.  Speak  to  him  during  breakfast.  He  loves 
you,  dear."  Then,  quick  as  turning  round,  she  was 
gone. 

Francis  strocl  very  still  for  a  minute.  Then  he  be^an 
to  contemj.Iatc  the  do.r,  as  if  selecting  a  spot  to  ha^m- 
mer. 

A  boy  came  whistling  around  the  hedge  from  the 
direction  of  the  kitchen. 

Francis  hailed  him   with   a   shout.     "  Com'^  here 
Sambc,"'  he  called. 

"Lordamercy!  Master  Frank!"  exclaimed  the 
boy. 

"You'll  find   Jumper  hitched  to  a  tree  down  bv 
the  b,g  gates,"  said  Francis.     •'  Ride  him  home,  and 
tell  them  that  I  am  breakfasting   with  Mr.   DanVa 
Give  the  message  to  Barnaby  to  take  up  to  the  house  '■ 
icsscr,"  said  the  astonished  bov. 
"  Hold  -  here  is  a  yellow  one'  for  ^•ou,   Sambo." 
added  the  lover,  tossing  a  thick  coin  on  the  hwn 

Ihcn  he  turned  and  applied  the  butt  of  his  whin 
to  the  d.,c  r,  with  the  air  of  one  makin,  up  lost  time 


A  Breakfast  Visit 


^^ 77 

The  door  was  snatched  open  by  Mr.  Dariza's  ancient 
blac^kbutU,.    His  wHnlcIed  face  was  quite  gray  wTh 

"Hi  Master  Frank!  Be  some  one  dead  over  to 
Admiral's  Pride  ?  »  he  exclaimed. 

"  Why,  no.  J.ke;  I  can't  say  there  is,"  replied 
Franas,  somewhat  flustered.  "I  just  came  over  to 
see  —  to  see  your  master." 

Jake  bowed  him  in.    He  knew  what  a  vki,  torn  a 

Drune  demanded,  whatever  the  hour.    Yet  he  shot  a 

umve  glance  a,  the  young  gentleman,  suspecting  that 

.he^  refreshments  a,  .be  ball  had  been  ,00  much  for 

Ves,  he  was  right.    Afaster  Frank's  eyes  were  shining 
m  an  unm.statable  way,  and  his  cheeks  were  flushed 
He  was  abou,  ,0  usher  his  visitor  imo  the  Ubrary  and 
g^  .0   he  cook  for  advice,  when  down  the  stairs  came 
Ihc  mistress  of  the  house  herself 

"  Here  am  Master  Fnnt-        1  ■  , 

gin-rar  announced  ^he  buL'  "         °"  "^ 

coifed "1"°',  ""'  '"  ""  """■  ''^  ■■■°»«  ™'''-'  - 
™ed    ,he    statement -or   ,he    caUer-but    retired 

to    the    dmmg  room,    and    congratulated   himself  on 
being  very  neatly  out  of  „n  awkward  comer 


ri- 


78 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


When    Mr.    Dariza   came   down-stairs,    two    hours 
later,  he  tried  to  look  as  if  he  felt  no  surprise  at  finding 
Francis  Druric  and  his  daughter  calmly  auaiting  him- 
m  the  breakfast-room.    He  greeted  Drurie  with  quiet 
cordiality. 

"  Frank  has  come  over  to  have  breakfast  with  us  " 
explained  Isobel.  "And  that  is  very  good  of  him- 
for  this  is  his  -  his  last  day  in  Virginia  for  -  somj 
time."    Her  voice  was  a  trifle  uncertain. 

Her  father  looked  at  her  vdth  tender  inquiry  "  Yes 
it  is  good  of  him,"  he  said.  He  smiled  al  Francis.' 
"  It  IS  some  time  since  you  last  honoured  us,  lad,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  wondered  if  anything  serious  could  be 
the  matter  -  if  anything  had  injured  our  old  friendship 
I  am  glad  to  see  that  my  fears  were  groundless.  I 
consider  it  very  kind  and  poHte  of  you  to  spare  us  a 
part  of  3-our  last  morning  at  home."  V/hile  he  spoke 
he  kept  his  bright  gaze  on  the  young  man's  face 

Francis  murmured  a  few  vague  words  in  reply 
He  knew  that  his  cheeks  were  red  as  fire.  He  felt  that 
Dariza  could  see  his  mind. 

The  breakfast-table  was  small  and  round.  Francis 
found  that  without  any  effort  he  coukl  touch  Isobel's 
feet  with  one  of  his.  The  thrill  he  received  upon 
making  this  discos-cry  ..as  wonderful,  e-.en  without 
taking  mto  consideration  the  thickness  of  his  riding- 


A  Breakfast  Visit 


In  fact,  she  advanced  then,  in  his  direction,  at  the 

I J      I      7"""^  '"''"«'"  *'"'  ^  fi"''-  radiance 
I-rd,  what  thtogs  they  a«_,„,  and  ™uthi 

hif  T,     i  ™'  *"'"  °^"  •'^  ""=  «™  Francis  had 
h^^lf^ufficentiy  in  ijand  to  .ate  the  tirs.  n:ve  „^ 

if  yo'u  -  "  Te  f  ^"-r-"^'  -.  I  want  .0  know 
"jou  he  began.    He  paused,  staring  at  his  host 

-.ha  iook  of  seared  bewiiderment  on  his  face     Th 
tnmg  was  more  difficult   than    h^  u  ^        •  . 

Both  his  w,t  and  his  breatVh^faned'M."""''^'^''- 
Mr.  Danza  bowed  gravely 

«Tf'  ^'^''  *""»  ^"^"■-    "I  -»t  your 

Mr.  Danza  smtled  gently.  "  i,  „„„m  J^ 
more  correct,  dear  lad,  to  have  asted  n,»  •  • 
he  said.  "^  "  Pnvate," 

inr^'Tdid"',:  ""  '"""■"  """  ^^»"=  Pkad. 

'.-•.^ui.esnp^dtytintrr^^-''"^"''-™- 


HH 


80 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


What  they  saw,  who  shall  say?     Perhaps  a  vision  of 
his  own  youth;   perhaps  a  face  from  beyond  the  veil 
of  death.    At  last  he  turned  to  the  lover. 
"  You  may  have  her,  lad,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

FRA.\'CIS   SAILS   AWAY 

haung  firs  arranged  ,„  ,„cce  Isobcl  ,1.,™  bv  ,;,o  .ate 
»-hcn  on  h.  way  ,o  King's  Haven  earlv  in  „,.  „},„ 
noon.  ■  ''*-'^ 

He  was  received  by  the  captain  in  the  hall  of  Ad- 
miral's  Pride. 

"  This  is  a  strange  v.ay  to  treat  us  on  vour  last 
morning  ashore,"  said  the  war-scarred  sailor    ' 

shoZ:: '''''' ' '"'  °^ '-'  ^^  '-^^  ^-^-'^ 

^- You  will  not  say  so  when  you  know  whv  I  did  it 
ir,     he  sa.d.     "  Isobel  has  promised  to  be"  n.v  „^e' 
i  - 1  have  so  short  a  time  to  be  with  her,  that  I  went" 
over  this  morning.    I  hope  you  will  forgive  me.  sir-' 

Forgive  .vou?''  cried  the  captain.  "  DL.s  ;our 
hcrt,.hatelsecanIdoP  Frank,  you  are  a  luck v 
dog.  Gad,  how  you  can  sail  away  fn.m  that  beauty  is 
more  than  I  can  see.  And  what  about  John  ^  Ri. 
me,  but  this  is  a  good  joke  on  John !  " 

81 


»fl 


8i2 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"I  cannot  hdp  that,  sir,"  replied  Francis  -If 
John  is  hurt,  it  is  his  own  fault.  She  .'id  not  care  for 
him  —  though  he  led  us  to  think  otherwise." 

Just  then  the  mother  ajjpearcd. 

"  Alice,"  cried  the  captain,  "  this  ,voung  knave  has 
as  g(  cd  an  excuse  as  I  ever  heard  for  not  staying  at 
home  for  breakfast.  What  d'ye  think  ?  Stab  me  if 
he  isn't  the  accepted,  and  registered,  and  proclaimed 
future  husband  of  the  finest  girl  in  Virginia!  \nd  I 
am  glad  of  it.  He  deserves  the  best,  though  he  does 
not  happen  to  be  our  eldest." 

^^  Mrs.  Drurie  flung  her  arms  around  her  son's  neck. 
^^  But  what  is  your  father  talking  about  .>  "  she  asked. 
You  must  not  excite  him,  d<.ar,  or  he'll  not  be  able 
to  ride  over  to  King's  Haven." 

Francis   smikd    at    his  father    over    his    mother's 

head. 

"  Isobel  has  promised  t„  marry  me,  mother,  when 
1  return  from  this  voyage,"  he  said 

"Tsobel?"   cried   Mrs.   Drurie.     "Isobel   Dariza? 
And  what  of  poor  John  }  " 

"And  what  of  him?"  cried  the  captain,  who  was 

wcr  ::ng  himself  into  a  fine  fluster.    He  had  not  had  so 

much  excitement  since  his  last  battle.    "  And  what  of 

"m-      he  repeated.     "  Can't  the  girl  pick  her  own 

i^usonnd  -  so  long  as  Dariza  docs  not  objer:  "^     \y^ 


Francis  Sails  Away 


83 

she  caj,  pick  from  all  Virgima!  And  she  has  picked 
old  lady.  She  has  chosen  a  fighter -a  man  who  is' 
already  a  good  soldier,  and  will  make  a  good  sailor. 

,h.  I  ?  ", "  """'"  ^-  ^""°"  =»"  ^-'diers  get 
the  fines.  g,rls-aye,  and  always  wiU-I  did,  for 

At  that  moment  John  came  from  the  library   at- 
tracted by  his  father's  tirade      Tl,.        .  • 
iinnn  ki.  .u    .       7  "^  captain  turned 

"pon  Us  eldest  and  ga^ed  at  him  f„m  beneath  puck- 
e.^  brows      The  mother  withdrew  her  arms  from 

c^M    '        ;  T"  """'"^  '"""  ™=  '"  ">^  »">"  of  her 
children,  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  to  do 

Toto'^t"t"'."r° '"■'''"'"■"•    "Sh^e  hands, 
John,    he  said.       There  has  been  a  mistake  -  but  i 

am  willing  to  forget  it.    Shake  hands,  lad  " 

John  complied  with  the  other's  request.     But  he 

boked  puzded  and  an.xious.    "  What  is  all  this  about? 

Of  what  mistake  do  you  speak?"  he  asked,  glancing 

from  Francs  to  his  father  and  mother  * 

iZ^'"'j'!  "'"'^'^'»<''  •fota.  when  I  inform  you 
ItliT^'ld'ly"''""^""— -^^'e,"repL 

unltlr't  '"'":"  '"^'"^  "'°"^'  ■"«'--'  -  few 
unmte  ligiblc  words,  and  hurried  from  the  hall. 

With  a  s„ort  of  rage,  the  captain  followed  as  fast 
as  his  lame  leg  would  allow.     Now  he  understood 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


150 


12.8 


u 


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1^ 


25 

12.2 

2.0 
1.8 


1.6 


A     APPLIED  \MAGE     Inc 


'653   East    Mom    Street 
Rochester,    New    York  14609        USA 

(716)    482   -  0300  -  Phone 
(716)    288  -  5989  -  Fax 


84 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


what  John's  game  had  been;  and  disgust  and  anger 
glowed  in  him. 

Mrs.  Drurie  turned  to  Francis  with  tears  of  fear  and 
consternation  in  her  eyes.  ''  What  is  it  ?  "  she  cried. 
"  Why  is  your  father  so  angry  with  John?  He  said 
nothing.    He  is  to  be  pitied,  poor  boy." 

"  Yes,  John  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Francis. 

"  Then  why  did  your  father  look  at  him  so  —  so 
frightfully?"  asked  the  distressed  woman.  "And 
what  was  the  mistake  of  which  you  spoke  to  John  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing  to  worry  about  —now,"  said  Francis, 
patting  his  mother's  hand.  "  John  made  a  mistake, 
some  lime  ago  ~  and  that  led  me  to  make  a  mistake. 
I  discovered  both  mistakes  lasi  night;  so  no  harm  is 
done." 

Mrs.  Drurie  was  about  to  ask  for  a  more  definite 
answer  to  her  question,  when  the  front  door  opened, 
and  Mr.  Fairwood  bounced  into  the  hall.  He  grasped 
the  young  man's  hand  in  both  of  his. 

"  Congratulations,  my  dear  boy!  "  he  cried.  "  'Tis 
the  best  thing  I've  heard  in  a  lifetime.  I've  just  been 
over  to  Hopcland,  and  the  girl  told  it  to  me  herself. 
She  is  the  finest  girl  in  the  world,  Frank  —  but,  as 
she  was  bound  to  fall  in  love  with  some  man,  I  am  glad 
she  has  chosen  you."  He  turned  his  broad  and  glowing 
face  upon  ^Irs.  Drurie.    "  She'll  make  a  daughter  fcr 


Francis  Sails  Away 


85 


you  to  be  proud  of,  ma'am,  though  I  say  it,  who  am 
herunde."    He  returned  to  Francis.    "  But  why  have 
you  taken  so  long  to  find  out  what  was  the  trouble 
with  you?    Was  it  your  fault,  or  IsobePs?    Ton  my 
word,  lad,  it  looked  to  me  as  if  you  were  leaving  the 
finest  thing  in  the  world  to  a  young  man  who  already 
has  mc  e  than  he  deserves.    And  yet  I  knew  all  the 
time  that  it  was  you  she  cared  for." 
"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  so,"  said  Francis. 
Just  then  the  captain  returned  to  the  haU.     The 
thunder  had  cleared  from  his  brow -which  was  sure 
proof  thai  he  had  rid  himself  of  the  lightning     He 
gripped  his  old  frier  "s  hand,  and  clapped  him  on 
the  back.    -  Yoa  are  in  the  nick  of  time,  Henry,"  he 
exclaimed.     "  Joskins  is  mixing  a  BiUy-rough-un." 

John  appeared  just  when  the  punch  was  ready  He 
looked  pale  and  decidedly  shamefaced.  Yet  he  drank 
the  healths  of  Isobel  and  his  brother  with  a  very  good 
grace.  Then,  refillmg  his  glas..  he  proposed  fair 
wmds  and  a  safe  return,  and  clinked  his  glass  against 
his  brother's. 

Yes,  Master  John  had  made  a  noble  recovery  but 
deep  mside,  he  felt  small  and  mean.  Also,  he  thought 
his  heart  broken -but  that,  I  am  bound  to  confess, 
was  only  one  of  his  poetic  fancies. 

It  had  been  planned  that  ]\Irs.  Drurie  was  to  go  to 


f  f 


86 


A  Cavalic    of  Virginia 


King's  Haven  in  the  carriage,  and  that  Mr.  Fairwood 
and  the  three  Druries  were  to  ride.  Now  Mrs.  Drurie 
suggested  that  she  should  call  on  the  way  for  Isobel. 
She  wanted  to  begin  petting  the  girl  immediately. 
She  had  a  daughter  at  last. 

"  Perhaps  she  will  not  want  to  go,"  said  the  captain. 
"  It  would  be  a  hard  twist  for  her,  beyond  a  doubt." 

"  Isobel  is  a  gu-1  with  a  fine  spirit,"  replied  the  lady. 
"  I  know  more  of  this  sort  of  thing  than  you  do,  Paul. 
How  many  times  did  you  sail  away  from  me  before 
you  settled  down  to  a  peaceful  life?  And  was  there 
ever  a  time  that  I  did  not  go  aboard  your  ship,  and 
remain  aboard  until  the  last  boat  pulled  away  for 
the  shore  ?  " 

"You  are  right,  Alice,"  admitted  the  captain. 
"Women  are  the  very  devil  for  wanting  to  see  the 
last  of  everything.  They  worry  more  over  little  things 
that  they  don't  see,  than  over  big  things  that  they 
have  a  square  look  at.  Oh,  I'm  not  denjing  the 
courage  of  the  finer  members  of  your  sex,  my  dear." 

'  But  I  hope  you'll  not  expect  her  to  do  anything 
th!  t  —  that  she  may  not  want  to  do,"  ventured  Francis, 
blushing  very  red. 

The  captain  and  Mr.  Fairwood  laughed  uproariously 
at  that. 

"Have  no   fear,  lad,"  the  captain  assured  h  m. 


Francis  Sails  Away 


87 


"  She  shaU  be  let  do  everything  that  she  wants  to  do 
and  nothing  that  she  does  not  want  to  do,  while  you 
are  away.  Her  word  will  be  law  with  us,  Frank,  you 
may  take  my  oath  on  that." 

"  You  had  better  go  over  to  Hopeland  and  ask  her 
if  she  wiU  accompany  us  into  King's  Haven,"  said  the 
lady.  «'  The  carriage  would  caU  for  her  at  three. 
Wait  a  moment,  dear,  and  I'll  send  a  note." 

"  And  if  your  bag  is  packed,  lad,  you  can  stay  there 
untU  we  call  for  you,"  said  the  captain.  "  It  seems  to 
me  you've  cut  your  time  so  short  that  you'll  need 
every  minute  of  it." 

What  his  mother  wrote  to  Isobel,  Francis  did  not 
know.  It  must  have  been  something  remarkable,  to 
judge  by  the  eflfect  of  it  on  the  girl.  She  blushed  and 
wept  over  it. 

"  I  did  not  know  she  was  so  fond  of  me,"  she  said 
to  Francis. 

"  Everybody  loves  you,"  repUed  the  young  man 
"  But,"  he  added,  "  if  all  their  love  was  put  together, 
it  would  not  be  equal  to  one-miUionth  part  of  my 
love  alone." 

"  And  just  think,  dear,  that  this  time  yesterday  I 
cried  for  almost  an  hour  bectuse  I  thought  that  you 
did  not  love  me  at  all,"  said  the  girl. 

"  How  terrible  I "  exclaimed  Francis. 


f  : 


88 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Isobel  decided  to  go  to  Eling's  Haven,  and  a  message 
was  sent  to  Admiral's  Pride  by  a  servant. 

Three  o'clock,  and  the  1  urie  carriage  and  the 
riders  arrived  all  too  soon  for  the  lovers.  Every  one 
but  John  kissed  Isobel. 

John  was  having  trouble,  at  the  time,  with  a  horse 
thai  had  never  been  known  to  give  trouble  before. 

Then  Isobel  got  into  .he  carriage,  the  driver  cracked 
his  whip,  the  gentlemen  swung  to  their  saddles,  and 
away  they  all  started  for  King's  Haven,  leaving  Mr. 
Dariza  waving  his  hand  from  the  wintry  lawn. 

Highways  were  p  or  affairs  in  those  good  old  days, 
and  carriages  were  not  a  bit  better.  If  Mrs.  Drurie 
and  Isobel  clung  to  each  other  frequently  during  the 
journey,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  The  pitching, 
rolling,  and  bumping  kept  up  their  spirits.  It  was  much 
more  exciting  than  saddle-work.  The  carriage  was 
wide,  and  the  road  was  narrow;  but  Francis  managed 
to  keep  Jumper  close  beside  the  open  window  at  which 
Isobel's  face  appeared  in  every  lull  in  the  passage. 

Sometimes  the  agile  horse  was  in  the  ditch,  and  some- 
times in  the  thicket  of  leafless  blackberry  vines  beyond. 
Not  once  did  he  fall  behind  or  forge  ahead.  A  dozen 
times,  or  more,  he  was  so  close  to  the  window  that  his 
rider  was  able  to  reach  his  hand  within.  Il  was  an 
exciting  and  pleasurable  journey. 


Francis  Sails  Away 


89 


The  March  sun  was  shining,  and  the  March  wind 
was  piping  over  the  Uttle  town  and  harbour  of  King's 
Haven.  Gulls  swerved  along  the  slcipping  waves, 
and  the  air  was  wet  and  brisk  with  the  smell  of  the 
salty  flats  and  lively  acres  of  the  tide. 

At  the  end  of  the  wharf  the  Thrush  strained  secretly 
at  her  moorings,  rubbing,  pulling  a  little,  and  shiftmg 
this  way  and  that,  now  fore  and  aft,  now  up  and  down, 
as  if  to  discover  the  fuU  strength  of  the  ropes  that  held 
her.  The  wind  piped  in  her  tops  and  the  tide  fumbled 
at  her  keel. 

The  horses  were  stabled  at  the  tavern,  and  th3  two 
ladies  and  four  gentlemen  went  down  the  wharf  and 
aboard  the  little  Thrush.  They  were  ushered  into 
the  tmy  cabin  by  a  dumfounded  boatswain,  and  there 
the  shipmaster  opened  a  bottle  of  his  best  wine,  and 
"  a  prosperous  voyage  "  was  drunk  by  everv  one! 

Then  the  narrow,  dark  berth  in  which  Francis  was 
\<  sleep  was  inspected.  Mrs.  Drurie  pronounced  it 
unfit  for  anything  but  a  cat,  and  the  captain  said  it 
was  a  palace  compared  to  his  berth  aboard  the  Sneezer 
when  he  was  a  midshipman.  Isobel  said  nothing; 
but,  the  little  coop  being  black  as  a  chimney,  she  lifted 
her  face  to  her  lover's. 

The  brig  swung  away  from  the  wharf,  and  little 
black  eddies  spun  between  the  moving  timbers  and  the 


s 


90 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


fixed.  The  headsails  flapped  and  filled,  and  mariners 
went  up  the  shrouds  and  out  on  the  foot-ropes.  The 
main  sheet  was  manned,  and  the  yard  was  squared 
to  the  time  of  a  deep-sea  chanty  roared  by  husky 
throats. 

Francis  Drurie  stood  on  th  >h  poop,  bare  headed, 
facmg  the  land  from  which  xie  was  jo  swiftly  sUpping 
away.    The  wharf  was  thronged  with  people. 

In  front,  in  a  Uttle  space  left  for  them  by  the  town- 
folk,  stood  his  mother  and  Isobel,  his  father  his 
brother,  and  Mr.  Fairwood.  He  could  see  how  str'aight 
the  girl  stood,  gazing  across  the  water  to  him,  her  right 
hand  clasped  in  that  of  the  elder  woman  and  the  left 
upon  her  lips. 

Then,  for  a  moment,  the  scene  dimmed  before  the 
young  man's  straining  eyes.  A  mist  of  tears  weUed 
across  his  vision.  A  great  longing  broke  its  bonds 
withm  him,  gripping  his  heart  and  shaking  him  from 
head  to  heel.  He  stretched  his  arms  toward  the 
wharf,  and  a  low,  harsh  cry  escaped  him.  It  was  that 
sound  that  startled  him  to  recovery. 

When  the  entrance  to  the  little  harbour  and  the 
roofs  of  the  town  were  hidden  by  the  shifting  coast- 
line, and  four  miles  of  sea  ran  and  splashed  between 
the  bng  and  Virginia,  Francis  Drurie  turned  and 
looked  at  the  Ufe  that  was  going  on  so  briskly  and 


Francis  Sails  Away 


91 

heartily  around  him.  All  the  sails  were  spread  to 
the  fair  but  gusty  wind.  The  master  stood  beside 
him,  gazmg  up  at  the  swaying  spars  and  straining 
canvas.  Dorni  in  the  waist,  the  mate  walked  fore  and 
aft,  now  and  then  halting  to  roar  a  word  of  caution 
or  command  to  the  seamen  who  were  busy  at  belaying 
or  coihng  down  sheets  and  halyards. 

"  It  looks  as  if  we  had  made  a  fair  start,"  remarked 
Francis. 

"Aye,  ye  may  well  say  it,"  replied  the  shipmaster. 
He  stepped  close  to  the  passenger  and  stared  at  him 
with  friendly  ej^es.  "  Sir,"  he  said.  "  if  I  was  a  gentle- 
man an'  loved  by  a  young  lady  like  the  one  that  loves 
ye,  1  d  never  set  a  foot  on  seagom'  timber.  Not  for 
aU  the  gold  in  Spain,  nor  aU  the  'baccy  in  Virginia,  I 

.-ntle  and  simple,  we  have  our  work  to  do  in  the 
.rlu,"  replied  Francis.    "  It  is  our  work  that  makes 
t-ngland's  power." 

The  mariner  smiled.  "Aye,  that  be  weU  enough 
for  men  like  me,  who  have  to  earn  our  bread  »  he 
agreed.  "  But  for  gentry  with  grand  houses,  ai'  aU 
the  heart  can   desire,   I  see  no  manner  o'  sense  in 

"  So  you  think  I  am  a  fool  for  my  trouble?"  in- 
quired  Francis. 


02 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"Aye,  sir,  meaning  no  disrespect,"  replied  the 
other. 

The  gentleman  smiled  somewhat  mournfully.  "  .\nd 
what  do  you  say  to  the  voyage  I  am  to  sail  on  from 
Bristol  —  north  and  west  to  a  place  called  Hudson's 
Bay?" 

"  I  heard  of  it,  ashore,"  said  the  mariner.  "  Them 
seas  be  the  worst  in  the  world.  If  the  French  an'  the 
pirates  don't  get  ye  on  the  way,  ye  die  with  starvation 
when  ye  get  there.  It  is  madness,  sir,  to  mv  way  o* 
thinkin'." 

"  Then  your  way  of  thinking  is  a  very  poor  way,"' 
said  Francis  shortly,  and  turned  his  shoulder  on  *he 
discomfited  shipmaster. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AT  THE  CAT  AND  RAT 

The  brig  Thrush  made  her  voyage  across  the 
Atlantic  without  accident.  She  weathered  a  half-gale 
or  two,  and  received  several  frJghts  from  questionable- 
lookmg  topsails  -  and  once  she  frankly  admitted  fear 
and  crowded  on  canvas  until  the  foam  bubbled  over 
the  gilded  fiddles  under  her  forepeak. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  vessel  with  the  long 
topmasts  and  patched  sails  was  following  her  at  its 
best  speed.  But  the  brig  was  a  swift  little  craft:  and 
the  exdtement  lasted  only  half  a  day.  Perhaps  it 
would  not  have  lasted  so  long  as  that  if  the  master  had 
comphed  with  his  passenger's  reqr.st  to  wait  and  en- 
gage the  stranger. 

Francis  Drurie  had  found  time  heavy  on  his  hands 
during  the  voyage,  though  he  had  applieol  himself 
to  the  studies  of  navigation,  seamanship,  and  the 
French  language.  In  spite  of  his  work,  he  had  never 
been  entirely  free  from  the  sense  of  loss  and  longing 
that  stured,  day  and  night,  in  his  heart. 

08 


ill 


94 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


In  Bristol,  however,  this  pain  was  greatly  eased.  On 
solid  land,  among  men  and  houses,  the  mind  found 
relief  from  that  constant  sense  of  the  vastncss  of  space 
and  separation  from  which  there  had  been  no  escape 
on  shipboard.  Here  were  quiet  folk  living  quiet, 
commonplace  lives,  even  as  the  townspeople  of  King's 
Haven.  One  had  only  to  forget  the  weary  days  of 
sailing,  and  Virginia  did  not  seem  so  hopelessly  far 
away,  after  all. 

Francis  had  his  numerous  boxes  and  bags  carted 
to  a  respectable  tavern,  situated  at  some  distance  from 
the  waterfront.  He  summoned  the  innkeeper,  and 
asked  for  the  best  room  in  the  house.  He  was  led  to 
it  in  a  twinkling,  and  his  luggage  followed  close  on  his 
heels. 

He  had  not  brought  his  body-servant  with  him 
from  Virg-nia,  because  of  the  lack  of  accommodation.^ 
aboard  the  Thrush;  but  now  he  asked  the  innkeeper 
to  find  a  suitable  man  to  serve  him  unlil  the  sailing 
of  the  expedition.  The  fellow  assured  him  that  nothing 
could  be  easier,  excused  himself  for  a  minute  or  two, 
and  returned  with  a  red-headed  lad  of  about  eighteen 
years  of  age. 

"  Captain,  this  is  my  son  Nicholas.  Ye'll  find  him 
honest  an'  willin',  an'  a  wonder  at  lookin'  after  a 
gentleman."  he  said. 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat 


95 


Francis  made  an  elaborate  toUet.  Then,  with  his 
servant's  assistance,  he  found  his  way  to  the  counting- 
house  of  his  father's  agent.  He  cut  s,  .  a  fine  figure 
that  he  was  admitted  to  the  merchan-  private  roo;n 
without  so  much  as  being  asked  his  name.  Nick 
followed  him,  carrying  a  massive  despatch-box.  The 
merchant  got  to  his  feet,  and  bowed. 

''  What  can  I  ha.e  the  pleasure  of  doing  for  you, 
sir  f     he  inquired. 

^^  "  My  name  is  Frands  Drurie,"  replied  the  colonial, 
and  I  have  this  boxful  of  money  to  leave  in  your  care 
for  a  short  time,  if  you  wiU  be  so  obliging." 

"Drurie?    A  Drurie  of  Virginia?"  exclaimed  the 
merchant. 

"Yes.    Here  is  a  letter  to  you,  from  my    >ther," 
replied  Francis. 

He  produced  the  letter.     The  other  oroke  the  seal 
and  read  it. 

Francis  did  not  get  away  .-  <r.  the  mcry  and  pros- 
perous Master  Albert  Smithers,  shipping-agent,  com- 
mission-merchant, and  importer  of  com  and  tobacco, 
until  he  had  promised  to  sup  with  him  that  night. 
Ketummg  to  his  inn,  he  again  changed  his  clothes. 

This  time  he  put  on  a  brown  suit  that  had  seen  a 
good  deal  of  wear,  but  was  neat  and  respectable; 
ndmg-boots  m  place  of  buckled  shoes,  and  a  serviceable 


96 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


hat,  very  modestly  laced.  Instead  of  his  sword,  he 
hvmg  a  pistol  to  his  waist,  well  back  under  the  skirt  of 
his  coat.  Then,  taking  his  cane  in  his  hand,  he  told 
Nicholas  to  lead  the  way  to  the  Cat  and  Rat. 

Nicholas  stared  at  him,  open-mouthed. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  trouble  ?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  Why,  sir,  it  be  a  low,  rough  place,  that  Cat  and 
Rat,"  raid  the  young  fellow.  "  An'  no  place  for  a 
gentleman  like  yer  honour,"  he  added. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  have  business  there,"  replied 
Francis.  "  If  you  do  not  want  to  accompany  me,  I 
shall  have  to  find  another  servant.  That  would  be  a 
pity,  for  you  seem  an  honest,  capable  fellow." 

"  I'll  go  with  'e,  sir,"  cried  Nick  hastily. 

They  went  down  to  the  harbour-side,  and  along  it 
for  some  distance.  The  way  was  full  of  interest  for 
Francis  Drurie.  Here  was  the  din  of  deep-sea  business 
and  adventure  on  cither  hand.  On  the  one,  the  din 
of  the  loading  and  unloading  ships,  and  on  the  other 
the  din  of  the  warehouses.  With  this  lively  human 
side  to  it,  this  business  of  seafaring  seemed  a  very 
homely  thing. 

Here,  all  crowded  together  like  sheep  in  a  pen, 
were  more  ships  than  Francis  had  seen  before  in  the 
whole  course  of  his  life.     King's  Haven  was  a  toy 


harbour  compared  to  this  place. 


Strange  men  were 


li  f  I 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat 


97 


on  every  side,  and  strange  voices  shouted  from  the 
ships.  There  was  a  fellow  as  yellow  as  a  lemon,  with 
rings  0f  extraordinary  size  in  his  ears,  and  no  mor*^ 
clothmg  on  him  than  shirt  and  trousers,  in  spite  of  the 
chill  of  the  English  air.  Around  his  head  he  wore  a 
bright  red  doth,  and  he  smoked  tobacco  twisted  up  in 
a  little  stick  the  size  of  one's  finger. 

Like  a  number  of  others  on  the  docks  and  in  the 
street,  he  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  watch 
other  people  work.    He  was  a  big  fellow,  lean  as  a 
hound,  but  boned  like  a  giant.     As  Francis  and  his 
man  passed  him,  picking  their  way  through  a  clutter 
of  bales  and  puncheons,  he  stared  at  them  with  eyes 
as  black  and  inscrutable  as  pools  of  pitch 
_    This  touched  the  Virginian's  anger.    It  smacked  of 
insolence  to  him.    Turning  quickly,  he  met  the  fellow's 
glance. 

"  Well,  my  friend,  is  there  something  you  wish  to 
say  to  me?  "he  asked. 

Nich^las  pulled  at  his  elbow,  and  in  the  second  or 
two  employed  in  shaking  off  the  servant  the  vellow 
]^irate-L];e  mariner  vanished  among  the  piles  of'cargo- 
«  uu.  The  big  man  was  gone,  but  so  swiftly  had  he 
slipped  away  that  a  wisp  of  tobacco  smoke  still  hung 
m  the  air  where  he  had  been. 

Francis  turned  angrily  upon  his  servant.     "  Why 


ilVsi^ 


98 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


did  you  take  hold  of  my  arm?  "  he  asked,  m  a  guarded 
voice.  "  Is  that  the  way  servants  are  taught  to  treat 
their  masters  in  England  ?  " 

"  I  did  it  for  your  own  good,  sir,"  answered  Nicholas 
boldly. 

"  You  don't  understand  Bristol  waterfront  yet,  sir, 
or  ye'd  never  pay  any  attention  to  a  fellow  like  that. 
He  took  to  his  heels.  Well,  sir,  let  us  be  thankful  for 
that.  If  he  hadn't  he'd  ha'  ripped  his  knife  mto  ye  as 
quick  as  a  wink." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  Francis.  They  moved 
on,  both  keeping  a  sharp  watch  on  ever>-  side.  "  But 
what  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  master  m  a  low  voice. 
"  What  cause  was  there  for  him  to  stick  a  knife  into 
me  ?  Or  to  run  away  from  me,  for  that  matter  ?  Who 
is  the  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  who  he  be,  nor  what  he  be,  but  the 
first  look  at  him  told  me  that  he  was  a  dangerous 
man,"  replied  Nicholas.  "This  crowd  be  full  o' 
murderers  an'  pickpockets.  Half  o'  them  be  no  better 
nor  pirates." 

For  a  few  minutes  Francis  followed  the  lad  in  silence. 
They  turned  up  a  narrow  alley  that  twisted  away  from 
the  wharves,  beyond  the  fringe  of  warehouses,  and 
lost  itself  in  a  place  of  toppling,  decaying  build- 
ings. 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat 


99 


"Are  we  near  the  tavern?"  asked  Francis.     He 
whispered  the  simple  question. 

There  was  an  air  of  ruin  and  hopelessness  about  the 
shabby  houses  and  narrow  footway  that  chiUed  his 
spirit  and  thrilled  him  with  a  vague  but  active  appre- 
hension.  ^ 

In  answer  to  the  question  Nicholas  pointed  to  a 
weather-beaten  signboard  that  swung  creakily  from  a 
house  about  twenty  paces  away. 

"There's  the  den,"  he  said,  turning  a  slow  glance 
of  anxious  inquiry  upon  his  master's  face 

"Wait  here,"  said  Drurie.  "  Or,  at  least,  somewhere 
withm  ear-shot  of  a  call.  If  I  do  not  appear  in  twenty 
^mutes'  time  you  may  either  go  home  or  come  and 
look  for  me." 

"  I  will  come  an'  look  for  ye,  captain,"  said  Nicholas 
Francis  Drurie  entered  the  low  doorway  of  the  Cat 
and   Rat,   and   peered   anxiously  round   the  gloomy 
room  in  which  he  found  himself. 

It  was  a  second  or  so  before  his  eyes  were  suffi- 
ciently accustomed  to  the  dusk  to  make  out  anything 
-hen  he  saw  several  small  tables  placed  irregularly 
about  the  flagged  floor,  and  six  rough  feUows  drinking 
their  hquor.     The  table  closest  to  the  door  was  un 
occupied. 

He  moved  over  to  it.  seated  himself  on  a  stool,  and 


100 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


struck  the  table  a  brisk  blow  with  the  palm  of  his  hand 
Nothing  happened.     He  looked  keenly  round  for  a 
sight  of  the  tavern-keeper,  and  his  eyes  met  the  un- 
wavermg,  black  regard  of  the  feliow  of  the  lemon- 
yellow  face  and  red-bound  head. 

He  started  imperceptibly,  and  his  heart  drummed 
in  his  breast,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  recognition  or 
alarm.  He  let  his  glance  pass  easily  from  the  yeUow 
face;  and  there,  in  the  back  of  the  room,  he  saw  a 
small  man,  with  a  bald  head,  watching  him  intently 
There  was  a  feeling  of  swiftly  suspended  conversation 
m  the  air  of  the  room. 

Very  dehber  .tely,  Francis  knocked  three  times  on 
the  table  with  the  knuckles  of  his  right  hand,  and  four 
times  with  his  left. 

The  change  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was 
startlmg  in  its  suddenness,  and  yet  wonderfully  com- 
forting.   It  was  as  if  the  air  had  cleared,  quick  as  the 
turn  of  a  hand,  of  some  threatening  storm.    The  five 
drinkers,  who  had  sat  like  images,  now  raised  their 
mugs  and  glasses  to  their  Hps.     The  big  fellow  of  the 
yellow  face  shifted  on  his  stool  and  puffed  at  his  thin 
rcll  of  tobacco  leaves.    The  littb  man  with  the  bald 
head  came  briskly  forward  from  the  back  of  the  room 
and  asked,  loudly  and  heartily,  what  it  was  the  gentle- 
man's pleasure  to  drink. 


Stepping  close  to  Francis,  and  witliout  waiting  for 
an  answer  he  wiais^red,  "  Topsi,,"  and  s,.ot  gLt 
Wee  a  l^fe  for  sharpness  into  .he  ,.ung  gentC" 

"Tagantsil,"  repKed  Francis,  smihng. 
keeper™'  ""  "'  '''•  ''P'"'"  "^'^  *«  '»«-- 

"Aye  rum  and  Kmes,"  repEed  Drurie. 

m  fellow  was  bade  m  a  nJnute  with  the  liquor 
He  .rved  ..  ™,idi„,  but  evidently  as.  well  as  he  Zld 

cap.nt':e::LTidratr..::'r"r"*- 

^epurp,ehlo.chonifch";\,^::tr«;tt^ 

_  WiU  you  join  me  in  a  glass,  ionkeeDer?"   ;„ 
quired  the  other  clearly.  ■  "'nKeeper.      m- 

The  fellow  accepted  the  invitation  with  a  poUte 
but  gn^esque  tow,  and  immediately  d^ew  up  a^olt 
and  seated  himself  close  to  Drurie 

;;WeU   what  news?"  asked  .h=  gentleman. 

"  Th7l-    .^"'  ^  "  ™-''8'='"  '■^*d  'be  innkeeper 
The  king's  men  got  too  hot  on  his  heels  " 

*Xr'"*^"-^«'r-^.e3.ng.he 

•'Aye.    What  else?"  repKed  the  little  man. 
"  here  has  he  sailed  to  ?  " 


102 


/ 


I 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"Northward  into  Scotland." 
"  And  when  do  you  expect  him  back?  " 
^_^'^Not  till  the  hounds  that  be  after  him  forget  a 

rr^t^^'^ff^  ^^^^^  J°b  Spark,  of  the  Golden 
Crc^r'  asked  Francis,  after  a  minute  of  reflection. 

prom';;;:  '^"'  °' ''-  °^-'"  ^^^^^^  ^^^  -^^r 

Drurie  saw  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
kar^ed  at  present  from  mine  host  of  the  Cat  and  Rat 
He  paid  his  score,  promised  to  caU  again  in  the  course 
of  a  week  or  two.  and  stepped  toward  the  door. 

Hold,  cap'n,  hold  I »  cried  the  imikeeper.    "  I  have 
another  word  to  say  to  you." 

The  young  man  halted  and  turned,  his   temper 
somewhat  rubbed  by  the  fellow's  manner 

"  Out  with  it,"  he  said. 
J  Well,  sir"  said  the  innkeeper,  "your  friend,  the 
gentleman  what  we  was  talkin'  of,  owed  me  a  irifle 
o   money  when  he  went  away.    He  said  as  how  ye'd 
gue  It  to  m-,  without  a  question,  if  ye  got  here  afore 

This  was  such  an  apparent  lie,  and  with  such  a  low, 
b^garly  motive,  that  Drurie's  anger  leaped  red-ho; 

-ithm.    Yet  he  controlled  himself,  and  asked  quietly     " 
the  amount  of  the  debt.  ^ 


AtAe  Cat  and  Rat 


F.ve  yeUo«  boy,,  cap-„,"  „pHed  ,he  crafty  fellow 

f  you  can  show  me  p^f  .tat  „,  „end  oZ 

3™u  this  money -or  ,e„  «„„  .^^  amount -ru  p" 

It  to  you;  but  not  a  penny  do  vo,,  „,  f  '^  ' 

wise,"  said  PTaads  &^'       '^"  ^'  '"""  ™  °«'''- 

face  T"™!,T  r!!^  '"=•"'  "■=  'avem  keeper's 

"0>n.e,llds,"heL;C;;"""^»^-- 
forwtd"^!:"  T"l'"""  ***  ''""'^  -«  -shed 

away  behind  the  n':jr«e,::re  "'IT  ""^ 
thi  pr»v    at  ':?"''"'■  """"'  '^»P"«  "-'-'ce  of 

ms  knife  into  another's  sIHp  a»^  i  •  i    .,  ' 

belly.  '  ^'^  ^'"^^^^  a  third  in  the 

By  this  time  Francis  haH  tMr««^  l-     •     . 

cracted  the  head  of    hela    "f  k.  "' 

•avem-heeper   crouched    ^  ^ T^'aU  T, 

fainting  with  terror.                                   "'   *"  ■"" 


104 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


The  felbw  with  the  yeUow  face  tossed  hi,  t  v 
away,  grabbed  young  Drurie  hv  T  ^"^^ 

from  the  room.  "^  '^'  ™^'  ^^  »»^^«i 

Nicholas  was  waiting  outside    «;f», 

JJon't  shoot!    Follow  US'"  ""*ea  past, 

"P.  they  came  to  a  high,  blind  wall  ^ 

«.h!:^:S:[ ''^""'-     ^'■^  "«  'eU„w  ..ea^  „, 

'  You  follow  me    ran'n    o„J  _ 

Then  he  laughed     "Mel    T  ""  ^"'"  ■■'  ^=^''- 

readtaLf'tL"  "'^  ?  "'"■  *^'"'  '''^  P'='<"  ^''l  - 

bW  eves  oHTe  T"^'^  '""'  *'  «'--«, 

^^^       e>es  of    the    man   who  had    ju..  saved  hL 

_''Whydid5TOdoil?"heasked. 

was^',!!!r'  T"'"  ^^P"^  ">'  °«>er.  whose  talk 
"as  as  foreign  as  h,s  eyes  and  complexion.    "  Me  teU 

you  why  when  we  get  more  safe  " 


At  the  Cat  and  Rat 


«iA  u::/""^  ""  *"'^  -»''.  '-K-ugh  it  was  we, 
-idlles^  """'■"-'-I'"  never  forge,,"  i. 

»  t-ee  on  each  «de   heTe^M  w    '''"''•    """PP"* 
„ms.  ^'  "'  ''»""'  doTO  wi,h  ex,ended 

Th^IaT-*''"?''"'''""^"' Nicholas, 
followed.  ""  "P  ^^^^  him.     Francis 

»'~srcrrei:s''T'''"'"^->'' 

l^ge,  forsaken  house  1h^  '"  ^'  "^  '"^  »'  > 

"voufonow:cf'x''r'';^»''=*- 

ydb,v  face.  '    "'"'°""^  ">«  ™an  wi,h  ,he 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  MAN   WITH  THE   \T:LL0W  FACE 

T^E  three  fugitives  from  the  Cat  and  Rat  entered 
the  big  house  by  way  of  a  basement  window.  Then 
into  a  hole  into  the  flagged  floor  hidden  bv  all  kinds 
of  musty  lumber  dived  the  leader,  followed  dose  bv  the 
gentleman  and  his  servant.  Down  thcv  stumbled  at 
a  sharp  mcline,  with  blackness  round  them  like  a 
blanket,  and  raw  earth  under  foot. 

Francis  held  the  back  cf  the  big  fellow's  sash,  anrl 
^Icholas,  m  his  turn,  clung  to  the  skirts  of  liis  master's 
coat.     Francis  had  a  small  knife  in  his  free  hand 
Aichclas  still  gripped  hi?    astol. 

The  leader  hahed.  ''  Me  make  a  light,"  he  said. 
_  Uick,  click,  chirped  steel  on  flint.  A  spark  jumped 
into  bemg,  and  up  sprang  a  tiny  flame.  Francis  hid 
his  knife  in  his  breast.  The  big  fellow  fumbled  about. 
In  a  second  the  gleam  of  a  candle  flared  in  the 
darkness. 

They  were  in  a  tiny  chamber  walled  bv  stone  on 
two  sides  and  on  two  by  timber.    In  one  corner  was  a 

106 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face    107 
hearth     The  earthen  floor  was  partly  eov-ered  with 

hf;  r  '  "'  '''■"^''"'^  »''  ^»va3  bags  lay 
about,  and  on  the  walls  hung  a  crueifix.  a  fine  long 
™ord  „  a  scabbard  of  blaefc-and-gold,  and  a  fo"' 
midable  row  of  cullases  and  pistols 

The  man  with  the  yellow  face  li,  two  mo,^  candles. 

You  wait  cr.e   minute,"    he  said.     "  Pedm  li. 

hisself  quiclc."  "^  "* 

J^Jlu'f'  I"  "'"'^  "■"  ^^^  '">■"  «'  h^ds  and 
U^rew  the  discoloured  water  into  the  ashes  on  the  hearth 

.hen  he  tore  off  his  cotton  shirt,  disclosing  a  to  «,' 

roped  w,th  long  muscles  and  marlced  out  fn  hai  ^ 

dozen  places  with  puclcered  scars.    He  drew  a  shir.' of 

fine  sdk  f„m  one  of  the  boxes  and  donned  it  Tn  a 

tw  nk  mg.    He  changed  his  ragged  trousers  for  fine 

vS  f ''  :f  r^'^'"*^'  -d  high  boots.  From  a  ti^y 
vial  he  rubbed  something  on  his  face  and  neck  that 
c  anged  his  colour  from  that  of  a  ripe  lemon  a 

fiL"bl":a.."^™'"^-"^-«''''=^^'>-P-n: 

.X  ::::'•  ■"'"'•"  -^^  '-^^  ^-^-^^  ■"=  *« 

Francis  smiled  and  nodded;  Nicholas  only  gaped 
Pedro  behed  the  long  sword  to  his  side  and  clapped 
on  his  head  a  black  hat  heavily  laced  with  gold.   TW 


ho  made  up  a  bm,dlc  of  ,he  crucifix,  .  ,i,„e  bag  of 

stockmgs.    He  heaped  the  straw  Iron,  the  t»o  couches 

around  t  and  toot  one  of  the  candles  in  his  hand.    ' 
ious,)  '""  ""'"  '»  '■'''"  ^^k")  Francis  anx- 

J  ^!  'r"  T"""  ''"'"'  "*"^-     "  »»  ""body 
X. ,     '        "■""  """^^  »'  fi'«  P")"  hide  so 

Fr:.^:tLr'°  "■""""  •"«''^^^'"-'«> 

"  ■^o"  know  an'  me  know,"  he  said.    He  leaned  t„ 
^c  gentleman's  ear  and  whispered:    •.  H^^g^rBa 
H.m  your  fnen-  in  Virgin  -  Richard  Dariza     Dem 
fools  don-t  i^ow    Him  my  master  _  RichrOan^a  " 
"ere  you   his  servant?"  cried  Francis    a^in 
grasping  ilie  fellow's  hand.  ^ 

"  Ves.     lie  tell  jBu  scon,"  repUed  Pedm      n 

-Pcd  and  touched  the  fiame  of  realty  thl 

p.^rshr;t;!r'..rCirr^'^^ 

Jus.  burn  one  or  two  house,  me  Ife  ..^'T  f  I' 
."  ^°"-  >-  "-  n^ick,"  he  added,  ^  op^n  al,' 
m  one  cf  the  wooden  walls.  "o  open  a  door 


lij 


B*-:51lpfe#W 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face    109 

narrow  street.  4"*«^*» 

Pedro  pointed  at  Nicholas       "  w:«,        j    l 
boy?"  he  asked.  Him  good,  honest 

He  put  h,s  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder.     "  Do  you 

understand  ?    Not  a  wnr^  «f  ♦u-   .  •        i^  you 

"  We  did  nn.       !     r  ^^''  ^°  *"y  °»^'"  he  said. 

We  did  not  go  to  the  Cat  and  Rat.    We  have  never 

so  much  as  heard  the  name  of  the  place  " 

Nicholas  looked  terribly  frightened.  '  "  Ve  can  trust 

'That        T"!'-   "I^^ourtrustvservant,sir.» 

chest  U^'  p'',"^"^"-  H^  tapped  his  broad 
Chest.  An  me  Cap'n  Drurie's  frien',  name  Cao'n 
Cremona,"  he  added.  *me  L,apn 

;«  Remember  that,"  said  Francis  to  Nicholas. 

They  reached   Drurie's   respectable  hotel  f.  good 

order,  though   by  this  time  a  slim  plume  ox  W^ 

s  reamed  to  the  sky  from  do.,  harbour-way,   ndfhe 

anging  of  bells  and  roar  of  voices  came  Lntt    o 

them  on  the  spring  air.  ' 

at  '^Tr  f  "'■??  T"""^  "'"■»■'"-"■  »d  Nicholas 
»    he,r  he,ls  w«h  ,he  bundle.   They  halted  and  turned 

t%         ''  °'  '"^  ™  """  ^-«'  ^'  «■»  -»oie  t 

dil^"^  "*  ""■  '  ""''''^•"  ''='^'=«'  C^'^™-".  with 
Agniiicd  concern  in  his  mice. 


in 


110 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


■  >  >i 


Captain  Cremona,  or  Big  Pedro,  or  whatever  you 
want  to  call  him,  told  Francis  Drurie  a  story  that 
explained  his  amazing  behaviour. 

Cremona  had  been  bom  in  England  some  forty 
years  ago,  of  Portuguese  parents.  He  had  struggled 
through  a  rough  and  neglected  childhood.  He  had 
been  shipped  to  sea  at  the  age  of  twelve,  and  for 
years  had  been  treated  worse  than  a  dog. 

After  that  he  had  sailed  many  voyages  as  an  able 
seaman.  For  several  years  he  had  cruised  in  the  West 
India  islands.  "  Good  money  in  dem  waters,"  he 
explained,  with  a  reminiscent  smile.  Later  he  had 
been  impressed  into  the  royal  service;  and  it  was  during 
this  period  cf  his  career  that  he  had  come  to  know 
and  love  Richard  Dariza. 

He  was  the  young  lieutenant's  servant  aboard  the 
Scorpion  for  two  years.  Richard  had  always  treated 
him  kindly  and  had  saved  him  from  more  than  one 
flogging.  They  had  been  in  tight  corners  together, 
risking  their  lives  side  by  side.  Then  the  trouble  had 
come. 

A  senior  officer,  drunk,  had  insulted  Dariza.  Dariza 
had  retorted  by  calling  him  a  liar.  A  duel  had  followed, 
with  fatal  results  to  the  senior  officer.  This  man 
happened  to  be  of  a  very  powerful  family;  and  so  the 
young  lieutenant,  assisted   by  all  the  officers  cf  his 


9!iS&  9P?^-<»lfiya$cv 


IS*  '««irainiii&«?.  %  < 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     111 


own  ship,  vanished  from  the  world  that  had  known 
him. 

His  servant  had  vanished  with  him.  The  two  had 
worked  on  the  docks  of  many  cities  together  as  com- 
rades, and  had  sailed  several  voyages  in  the  same 
ships.  They  had  made  a  living,  and  had  done  nothing 
worse  than  a  trifle  of  smuggling. 

Forced  by  fear  of  the  law  to  avoid  the  honester 
houses  of  entertainment  in  Bristol,  they  had  become 
connected  with  the  questionable  gang  that  frequented 
the  Cat  and  Rat.  The  tavern-keeper,  Mull  by  name, 
was  a  sharp-witted  fellow,  and  had  seen  at  a  glance 
that  Richard  was  no  common  sailor.  He  had  begun 
immediately  to  show  the  young  man  a  great  deal  of 
attention,  and  soon  professed  a  warm  regard  for  him. 
Richard  had  believed  in  the  fellow's  professions  for 
some  time. 

Crempna  never  had,  however.  Richard  had  trusted 
Mull  to  a  certain  extent,  but  never  so  far  as  to  tell 
him  the  true  cause  of  his  fall  in  the  world,  or  anything 
definite  of  his  old  home,  or  the  true  relation  existing 
between  himself  and  Pedro. 

In  fact,  the  gang  thought  that  they  were  but  chance 
acquaintances  of  a  voyage  or  two.  Richard  had  asked 
Mull  to  find  a  trusty  shipmaster,  bound  for  Virginia, 
to  carry  a  letter  for  him;  and  MuU  had  recommended 


t^M 


1 

J* 


112 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


■I 


the  master  of  th^  Golden  Crcnm,  who  was  not  of  the 
gang,  but  whom  he  knew  slightly.    Both  Richard  and 
Pedro  had  talked  to  the  old  mariner.    He  was  honest 
beyond  a  doubt.    A  fever  had  kept  Richard  in  Bristol 
for  more  than  a  month,  and  Pedro  had  remained 
too.  ' 

They  had  made  themselves  a  hiding-place  unknown 
even  to  Mull.     Mer  had  come  for  Richard  to  the  Cat 
and  Rat;   but  Mull  had  put  them  off  with  crafty  lies 
For  this  service  Richard  had  paid  him  good  money 

At  least  Mull  had  said  the  men  had  come.  Pedro 
did  not  believe  him.  If  it  was  true,  MuU  would  have 
learned  the  fugitive's  real  name -a  thing  that  had 
not  happened.  But  at  the  time.  Pedro  had  not  reasoned 
so  clearly. 

Soon,  Mull  had  more  talk  of  officers  of  the  law 
prowling  about.  Richard  then  slipped  awav  on  a 
small  coa.ung  schooner,  leaving  his  faithful  com- 
panion behind  him.  He  himself  had  begun  to  distrust 
the  sincerity  of  .Mull's  friendship.  Pedro  had  re- 
mained in  Bristol  and  in  close  touch  with  the  Cat  and 
Rat,  on  the  chance  that  the  master  of  the  Golden 
Crowii  might  return  with  an  answer  to  the  letter  or 
that  Francis  Drurie  might  answer  it  in  person 

The  possibility  of  his  friend's  arrival  had  troubled 
Richard  greatly  ever  since  he  had  begun  to  doubt 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face 


113 


the  honesty  cf  Mull's  intentions.  And  ever  since 
Richard's  departure  Pedro  had  kept  a  bright  eye  on 
Master  Mull.  Yet  not  quite  bright  enough,  for  one 
day  Mull  had  slipped  six  golden  corns  into  his  hand. 

"  'Tis  your  share  o'  a  trifle  we  took  last  night," 
Mull  had  whispered.  "  Though  ye  were  not  on  hand 
to  help,  ye  be  one  o'  the  gang.^' 

Then  Pedro  had  heard  how  Master  Job  Spark  had 
been  ribbed  of  one  hundred  pounds.  So  Pedro  had 
kept  a  still  sharper  lookout  after  that,  and  at  last  had 
spotted  Drurie  and  knoA^-n  him  instantiv  for  Richard's 
fnend.  He  had  hurried  to  the  tavern  so  as  to  be  on 
hand  in  case  of  need. 

Francis  Drurie  could  find  no  adequate  expression 
for  the  admiration  and  gratitude  that  glowed  within 
hmi  toward  Cremona.  He  shook  the  !>,•.  fellow's 
hand.  He  clapped  him  on  the  back.  He  drank  his 
health  in  the  best  wine  in  the  house,  and  called  him 
his  very  dear  friend.  He  offered  him  half  of  every- 
thing he  had  and  a  berth  as  a  gentleman  adventurer 
to  Hudson's  Bav. 

Cremona  grinned  expansively,  swallowed  the  good 
wme  m  quantity,  and  stuck  out  his  chest.  "  Me  a 
gentleman,"  he  said.  "  WJI,  that  all  right -me  do 
right  thing  for  frien's.  Me  don't  want  money.  Me 
dont  go  to  Hudson  Bay  with  you -no,  not  now. 


114 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ii 


Some  day-nex'  voyage -yes.  Now,  Cap'n  Cre- 
mona go  look  for  his  old  master -his  frien'-an' 
tell  him  how  you  come  an'  fine  fight  we  make.  When 
you  get  back  from  big  voyage,  we  be  here  in  dis  same 
room." 

"  You  are  the  trustiest  heart  in  the  world,"  cried 
Francis. 

Nicholas  was  caUed  up  and  told  enough  to  set  his 
.-imd  at  rest,  but  not  enough  to  endanger  any  one 
should  he  prove  less  honest  than  he  seemed. 

A  room  near  Drurie's  was  engaged  for  Cremona, 
for  the  big  fellow  had  accepted  the  other's  invitation 
to  remain  in  Bristol  as  his  guest  for  a  few  days.  Then 
he  would  start  north  to  find  Richard,  knowing  in  what 
ports  to  look  for  him. 

Francis  dressed  again  in  his  finest  clothes.  By  now 
It  was  dusk,  and  Nicholas  had  lighted  the  candles. 
The  landlord  came  to  the  door  and  said  that  a  gentle- 
man had  called  to  see  Captain  Drurie. 

Master  Smithers  was  shown  n.p.  "  I  am  a  few 
minutes  la^e,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  fire  down  at  the 
water-front,  and  I  was  a  little  anxious.  But  the  ware- 
houses are  safe.  It  has  been  confined  to  four  or  five 
buildmgs  that  were  worse  than  worthless,  in  that  thej- 
sheltered  some  cf  the  vilest  characters  of  the  city." 
"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  suffered  no  loss," 


rw#^.    "^M, 


The  Man  with  the  Yellow  Face     115 


repUed  Francis.    Then  he  presented  his  friend  Captain 
Cremona  to  Master  Smithers. 
They  had  up  another  bottle  of  wme. 
"  And  how  have  you  enjoyed  your  first  s«  hcurs  in 
Bristol?"  asked  Smithers. 

"  I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  and  interesting  time  " 
replied  Francis,  smiling  at  Cremona. 

Smithers  turned  to  Cremona  with  a  bow.    "  I  trust 
you  are  free  to  jom  us  at  supper,  captain,"  he  said. 
^  "  Yes,  me  free.    Thank  you  very  large,"  repUed  the 
giant. 


pi 


CHAPTER  XI 

m  ™iCH  A  SPANISH  CENTLZKAN  ARRIVES  m  racMA 

For  three  days  Cremona  lived  with  Francis  Drurie 
and  each  day  he  rose  higher  in  the  Virginian's  regard.' 
Then  he  went  away,  cheerful  and  full  of  the  Lat 
h.ngs  .hey  should  do  when  ne.t  they  n,e,.  He  Zm 
take  no  money  for  either  himself  or  Richard  but 
pressed  upon  Francis  one  of  his  fine  pistols 
Francs  heard  or  saw  nothing  more  of  the  rascally 

.he  LT'  .'  *""  ''''  '"  "^"^'^   ""'  '^  -™« 

n^^lT,;  ,r   n        """  ""  ""*  "^  ''  ™''^  "f  *e  dead 
men  m  the  Cat  and  Rat.    They  were  fellows  of  no 

ac  ount  and  perchance  the  authorities  ccnsi-.ered  them 
better  dead  than  alive.     Those  were  fine  ti  J  fo" 
people  w,.h  true  friends  and  long  knives -bu    no 
SO  fine  for  others. 

Francis  wrote  five  letters  during  his  sojourn  in 
Bn,tcl,  one  to  Isobel- which  was  not  sealed  and 
handed  over  to  Master  Smithers  until  the  very  da'f 

116 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives 


117 


sailing  on  the  great  voyage -and  the  others  to  his 

father,  his  mother.  Fairwood  of  Fairwood  Manor,  and 

Danza  of  Hopeland. 
As  his  days  and  evenings  were  fuUy  occupied  by 

work  in  connection  with  the  expedition,  and  by  socid 
engagements    with   people   interested    in    the   Royal 
Company,  in  which  he  was  now  an  officer,  he  was  forced 
to  toil  at  his  letter-writing  in  the  small  hours  of  the 
mommg,  thereby  winning  a  great  reputation  for  schol- 
arship m  the  eyes  of  his  servant  Nicholas.     Hav 
decided,  after  careful  reflection,  that  there  was  no 
reason  for  keeping  a  knowledge  of  Richard's  existence 

man  who  had  been  Richard's  servant,  omittmg  the 
details  of  the  meeting,  had  heard  that  Richard  was 
safe  and  m  good  health,  and  hoped  to  discover  him 
on  his  return  from  Hudson's  Bay.  To  Mr.  Dariza 
he  treated  the  subject  at  greater  length,  though  with 
no  more  particularity. 

There  were  several  great  personages  interested  in 
the  expedition,  and  by  these  young  Drurie  was  treated 

TuT""  ''''''^''''^^-  The  wealthy  baronet 
^ho  had  known  the  captain  in  the  old  davs  had  given 
Francis  a  great  name  as  a  soldier.  More  'to  the  young 
man  s  taste  than  the  great  folk,  however,  were  the 
gentlemen   v.ho,  like  himself,  intended  risking   their 


I 

I 


Hi 


118 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


lives  as  well  as  their  money  in  the  expedition.  There 
were  a  dozen  of  these  in  all,  including  himself  and  not 
counting  the  hired  sailing-masters. 

The  daring  little  fleet  consisted  of  four  vessels. 
Drurie's  was  the  Brave  Adventure,  a  stout  craft  of 
something  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  two-masted, 
square-rigged  on  the  fore,  and  with  boom  and  gaff- 
topsail  on  the  main.  In  addition,  she  could  spread 
three  jibs,  staysails  between  the  fore  and  main,  stunsails, 
and  a  little  spinnaker. 

Any  one  with  half  an  eye  for  such  things  could  see 
that  she  would  be  a  sweet  sailer.  She  was  heavily 
ironed,  as  well  as  heavily  canvased  for  her  size.  So 
quickly  does  pride  in  one's  ship  spring  in  the  heart 
that  Francis  had  not  been  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure 
twice  before  he  thought  her  the  finest  craft  in  the 
port  of  Bristol.  On  May  Day,  early  in  the  morning, 
the  little  ships  drifted  out,  one  by  one,  amid  the  cheering 
of  sailors  and  landsmen,  the  booming  of  cannon,  and 
the  flapping  of  flags. 


Back  in  Virginia  the  humdrum  round  of  quiet 
pleasures  and  mild  excitements,  such  as  hunting  and 
dancing,  was  disturbed  for  our  friends  of  the  three 
plantations  soon  after  Francis  Drurie's  departure. 
Early  in  April   Mr.   Dariza   became,  of   a   sudden. 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       119 


flighty  in  his  mind.    His  daughter  and  his  body-servant 
were  the  first  to  notice  it. 

They  did  their  best  to  keep  knowledge  of  it  from 
others,  and  were  successful  to  a  certain  extent.  The 
first  hint  received  by  Isobel  and  the  servant  of  the 
unhinged  condition  of  the  old  gentleman's  mind  was 
in  this  manner.  Dariza  calk, '  for  the  girl  early  one 
mornmg,  before  he  was  out  oi  bed.  Max  was  in  the 
room,  preparing  the  razor  for  his  master's  shave. 

"When  d'ye  expect  Dick?"  asked  the  frail  old 
gentleman. 

"Dick?"  cried  the  girl  faintly,  her  face  going 
white  as  paper. 

"Aye,  Dick.  He  wrote  that  he  would  soon  be 
home  and  would  stay  with  us  for  a  month  or  two  " 
replied  her  fa.her.  ' 

Ma:-  let  the  razor  fall  to  the  floor. 

Isobel  went  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  took  her 
father's  hands  in  hers.  "  I  do  not  expect  him  before 
June,"  she  said. 

Dariza  sank  back  on  his  pillow  without  a  word. 
That  morning  he  did  not  get  up  for  breakfast.  Later 
m  the  day  he  talked  sanely  and  kindly  to  the  girl  about 
Franas  Drurie.  In  the  evening,  however,  after  he 
had  retired,  he  called  his  son's  name  three  times. 

A  few  days  after  that  he  complained  of  feeling  too 


'■} 


ISO 


A  Cavalier  o^  Virginia 


i  I' 


tired  to  leave  his  bed.  A  doctor  was  brought  from 
King's  Haven  -  the  best  in  the  colony.  He  said  that 
Mr.  Danza  had  a  fever  in  his  blood;  so  he  drew  off 
a  considerable  quantity  of  blood,  and  a  deal  of  the 
fever  with  it,  he  said,  mixed  a  bottle  of  evil-tasting 
doses,  dined  with  Isobel,  and  jogged  home  in  time  for 
supper. 

It  was  always  in  the  early  morning  or  at  night  that 
Dariza  showed  signs  of  a  weakening  mind.  During 
the  height  of  the  day  he  talked  sanelv  enough  of  things 
great  and  small.  But  the  fever  in  his  blood  did  not 
cool.  He  kept  to  his  bed  for  more  than  a  week  after 
ihe  doctor's  visit -and  then  it  was  the  most  unex- 
pected and  amazing  incident  that  got  him  out  of  it 

Isobel  was  in  her  room,  kneeling  at  a  window  that 
faced  the  east -the  same  w.  .w  at  which  Francis 
had  gazed  from  the  lawn  on  the  magic  morning.  She 
was  dreammg  of  that  morning  now,  with  tears  in  her 
eves  A  moment  before  she  had  been  praving-a 
wordless,  almost  unconscious  prayer  -  the  petition  of  a 
frightened  and  longing  heart  for  the  safety  of  its  mate 

J'^JZ-Z""  ^''''  ^  '^  ^''  W^^  had  been 
answered  With  the  vague  fear  quiet,  she  called  the 
image  of  her  distant  lover  to  her,  across  those  tumbling 
wastes  of  sea  turned  time  back,  and  lived  again  that 
tnarveUous  night  and  morning.    She  was  disturbed  bv 


the  sound  of  .rotting  ^„  ^j  „„,. 

dear  visions  drifted  from  her  eves     <;h»   .    j 
looked  .differently  fro.  'he  ^Wo'  '  ^"^  "•'  -" 

uptsir,he  r*"'  """'•'-P^"""'  carriage  draw 
up  ^side  the  three  stone  steps  at  the  fool  of  the  ter 
aced  la™.    The  horses,  as  well  as  the  carriage  Je" 
unknoH-n  to  her.    Perhaps  i,  was  the  doetor  ZvdZ 
the  muddv  roads  in  -  r,:,  j  "ueior,  traielling 

o™     -^Ja    T.      "       "^  "-"veyance  to  save  his 

.:doo?:.::?;r^"^-^"--'^^^^.'.-,and 
andtiroifrtsTT''-'™'-'^*^ 

uui,  at  a.  loss  to  know  what  tn  Hr>    ^• 
quieted  and  yet  as  inactive  oc  v     V  '  '^'^" 

saw  the  drivel  de^d  tl     elrrpelr''    "^"^^ 

oco.  and  pull  f„..,ei„,rior:::,:^^r*«^ 
fani;  s^shi^:!'  ■""' '"""  *' "-"-  ^  -0  *e 

He  looked  about  him;   and  it  was  as  if  th. 
™  .kegallery  felt  the  <,«  glance  tL^h^  Ifn:^ 

-^.eadvanc^'t^^rlt:^;^^^^^^^^^ 
wno   can   it    hp  ? "    ,„u:  i    •,    . 

agitated.  ""'f"'"^  ^=°'^'>  """S'iy 


122 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 
debbcl   hisself,    I    reckon,"    muttered 


butler.  ""^"'    ■"    '''''^°''"    muttered    the 

Now  the  stranger  bowed  and  swooped  Jus  great 
hat  fro.  his  h.ad,  disclosing  to  the  fascLted  regard 
0  the  group  on  the  gallery  a  thin,  dark  face,  eyes  like 
black  crystals,  and  an  elaborate  black  wig 

.he  two  old  servants  drew  back,  leaving  their 
imstress  alone  at  the  top  of  the  gallery  steps  The 
granger  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  agab 
bowed  impressively,  hat  in  hand  ^ 

falLiX '■''""" '"''"'"'"^^''^^'^^-^^ 

to  "J!''  ^Tt  '  ^°"^''  "^^^^ '''  '^  I  ^^'-^  the  honour 
to  address  the  daughter  of  the  Sefior  Ricardo  Alcazardo 
da  Riza, '  returned  the  gentleman,  smiling  a  sh! 
wonderful  smile  that  told  of  hope,  Joy,  doubt,  and 
courage.  It  was  such  a  remarkable  smile  that  the  girl 
became  more  agitated  than  ever.  ^ 

^^^  Yes,"  she  said,  staring  at  the  stranger  with  startled 

He  ascended  the  steps  and  stood  beside  her.    "  My 
tTf '         L^  ^'''  '"'"  ^"^^^  ""y  ^'^  by  telling  me 
"  ^""  ^'  ^  ^"^°<^  °f  ^^^  perhaps  ?   Please  come  in, 


tei<^fti»feS1 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       123 


sir,"  said  Isobel,  with  something  of  her  usual  com- 
posure. 

"  Yes,"  rcph'ed  Josef  Alcazardo.  He  followed  the 
girl  mto  the  hall.  His  black  eyes  darted  this  way  and 
that  and  seemed  to  penetrate  into  the  surrounding 
rooms.  * 

The  girl  beckoned  to  the  old  butler,  who  had  re- 
treated  to  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room  door. 

"  Show  this  gentleman  to  the  library,"  she  said. 
bhe  turned  to  Alcazardo  and  looked  him  fairly  and 
searchmgly  in  the  face.  He  received  the  scrutiny  with 
steady  eyes  and  a  pensive  smile.  "  My  father  is  not 
weU.  I  will  tell  him  that  the  Senor  Josef  Alcazardo  is 
here." 

The  stranger  looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak  ^ 
to  offer  some  suggestion.  The  giri  noticed  this,  and 
waited.  "  Yes,  tell  him  so.  Tell  him  I  regret  his 
Illness -and  that  I  long  to  clasp  his  hand,"  said 
Alcazardo  haltingly. 

Isobel  hurried  to  her  father's  room  and  found  Max 
already  there.      Dariza  was  sitting  up  in  the  bed 
wuh  an  expression  of  keen  anxiety  on  his  haggard 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked.  "Who  has  come  to  see 
nie?  Can  it  be  some  evil  tidings  of  Dick -or  of 
Frank  Drurie?" 


1^4  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  I  do  not  know.  His  name  is  Josef  Alcazardo," 
replied  the  girl. 

"Alcazardo!  Heaven  help  me!"  cried  Dariza, 
with  something  of  distress,  but  more  of  increduUty 
in  hiL  voice. 

Isobel  turned  to  Max.  "  Tell  the  gentleman  to  go 
away.  Tell  him  that  he  cannot  see  the  master,"  she 
said. 

"No!  Wait!  Hold,  fellow!  "  cried  Dariza.  "Tell 
him  to  come  up,  whoever  he  is.  Ill  or  well,  whv  should 
I  fear  Josef  Alcazardo  ?  " 

The  servant  left  the  room. 

Isobel  took  her  father's  hands  in  hers.  "  Is  he  an 
enemy  —  an  old  enemy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  enmity —  or  with  fear?  " 
returned  the  old  man  unsteadily.  "  Zvly  days  are 
numbered;  but,  if  need  be,  Ricardo  da  Riza  can  still 
strike.  Leave  the  room,  my  dear,  and  kt  me  speak 
alone  to  this  belated  \isitor." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  whispered  the  girl. 

Dariza  pointed  at  a  pistol  that  lay  on  the  table  close 
to  his  hand,  between  a  glass  of  water  and  the  bottle 
of  doctor's  stuff. 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  he  said  significantly. 
Isobel  went  into  the  passage.    The  stranger  passed 
her  with  a  bow,  entered  the  bedroom  and  closed  the 


MmI^-^^^^^^^- 


Wk 


=»(*  -•** 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  A 


rrives 


125 


r\  and  Max  stood  close  to 


door  behind 

the  threshok.  H.t.ning  arxiously.  The  girl  lisVened 
for  the  soun(-.  of  a  pistol-shot  -  the  old  servant  for 
he  knew  not  what.    They  could  hear  nothing. 

So  they  waited  for  ten  to  fifteen  minutes;  then 
unable  to  stand  the  suspense  any  longer,  Isobel  opened 
the  door.  She  found  her  father  sitting  up  and  the 
stranger  in  an  armchair  pulled  close  to  the  bed  \1 
cazardo  was  leaning  forward,  his  right  hand  clasped 
m  that  of  Dariza.  The  invalid's  cheeks  were  flushed 
and  his  eyes  were  shining. 

The  girl  stood  on  the  threshold,  staring  with  open 
amazement  at  the  friendly  scene.    Both  men  looked  up 
"  Come  in,  my  dear,"  said  her  father.    "  Come  here 
and  welcome  my  long-estranged  brother- vour  Uncle 
Josef  —  to  Hopeland." 

Isobel  did  not  move,  but  continued  to  gaze  at  the 
two  m  anxious  bewilderment.  What  did  it  mean? 
Had  her  poor  father  gone  entirely  mad  ?  What  wild 
talk  was  this  of  a  brother  from  one  who  had  turned 
his  back  on  every  member  of  his  family  or  had  their 
backs  turned  upon  him,  forty  years  ago? 

"Come,"  said  Dariza.  "You  must  make  your 
uncle  welcome.  He  has  put  himself  to  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  and  expense  to  find  me.  His  heart  is  right, 
iou  have  nothing  to  fear,  Isobel." 


126 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Alcazardo  arcse  from  his  chair  and  moved  forward 
smihng  gently  and  affectionately,  his  hand  extended.' 
"  Yes,  you  must  welcome  me,  my  dear  little  kins- 
woman," he  said.    "  And  as  for  fear  -  what  have  vou 
to  fear  from  your  peaceful  old  Uncle  Josef?  " 

The  girl  placed  her  hand  in  his,  and  he  raised  it 
gallantly  to  his  lips. 

"  Now,  that  is  better,"  he  said.  "  We  shall  soon  be 
fast  friends,  I  see.  And  why  not?  I  have  come  a 
long  journey  to  find  your  dear  father,  that  a  mistake  - 
an  estrangement  -of  our  youth  might  not  go  to  our 
graves  with  us.  Yes.  I  tremble  at  that  thought.  It 
was  a  mad  thing -a  blind,  devilish  thing -and  the 
work  of  others.  But  Ici  it  die!  Let  it  be  forgotten,  as 
It  has  been  forgiven  by  both  of  us." 

He  patted  the  girl  on  the  shoulder  and  smiled  tenderly 
at  the  gentleman  in  the  bed. 

"  Yes,  let  it  be  forgotten,"  said  Dariza.  "  Thank 
Heaven  you  are  here,  Josef,  and  that  we  are  brothers 
agam.  Thank  Heaven  you  could  explain  the  thing  - 
and  had  the  kind  heart  to  travel  all  this  way  to  do  so  » 
He  lay  back  on  his  pillows,  breathing  quickly. 

His  brother  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment,  raising  his 
head  a  little  with  one  arm  and  holding  the  glass  of 
water  to  his  lips.  At  sight  of  that  quick  tenderness, 
the  girl  s  heart  thrust  away  aU  doubt  and  fear  of  him 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives 


127 


iet  mm  sit  up  agam. 

Isciber^'  ''^'  '^'  "^''^"^^"^  misunderstanding?  "  asked 

you,     said  Alcazardo.     "The  evems-ves,  and  the 

now    It  had  to  do  with  great  people  and  small  people 
my  dear  little  girl  — even  with  ^  n.  , 

flnri   oil  ,  ^'"S,  and  armies, 

and  all  manner  of  uncomfortable  things.  But  the 
k  ng  IS  dead,  now,  and  the  liars  who  made  the  trouble 
ae  dead -and  here  am  I  sitting  by  m.v  brother's 
bed,  very  much  at  peace.  So  worry  no  more  abou.  -. 
Old  mistake,  my  dear." 

Syior  Alcazardo  seemed  to  act  like  a  tonic  on  Afr 
Dan^a.     Within  an  hour  of  his  arrival,  his  brother' 
was  dressed  and  down-stairs.    A  servant  was  sent  over 
to  Fa,vvood. Manor  to  invite  Mr.  Fairwood  to  supper. 
A  stir  of  activity  and  curiosity  went  through  the  house 
and  offices,  and  even  back  to  the  quarters  of  the  field- 
hands,  and  the  servants  babbled   excitedlv  over  the 
sudden  and  unexpected  appearance  of  a 'gentleman 
who    was   the    master's   brother,    and   the   mistress's 
uncle    and  yet  whose  name  and  of  whose  existence 
they  had  never  before  heard. 


'.    r 


128 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Mr.  Fairwood  came  to  supper.  When  he  heard  the 
remarkable  news  from  his  brother-in-law,  he  ^  -e 
his    astonishment    and    incredulity.      When  as 

presented  to  tlie  senor,  he  stared  at  him  aghast. 

Then  he  turned  angrily  upcm  Dariza.     "  See  here 
Dick,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  like  this!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  is  it  that  you  don't  like,  my  dear  Henry  " 
asked  Dariza. 

"  Oh,  of  course  it  is  correct  and  above-board  if 
you  say  so,"  replK^d  Fairwood.  "  If  you  say  he  is 
your  brother,  why,  he  n  ust  be.  But  I've  always  been 
led  to  believe  that  they  were  all  a  bad  lot;  and  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  like  to  be  forced  into  so  sudden  a  friend- 
ship with  a  genileman  I  don't  know  and  don't  like  the 
looks  of." 

:\rr.  Dariza  and  Isobcl  were  horrified  bv  the  other's 
frankness,  and  could  net  find  a  word  to  say  or  the 
courage  to  look  ai  Alcazardo. 

Alcazardo's  reply,  however,  amazed  them  even  more 
than  Fairwood's  attack. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  my  kinship  with  your 
friend  Richard,"  he  said  quietly,  with  sad  eyes  turned 
upon  the  blulT  Virginian. 

"  But  I  do  not  blame  you  for  feeling  somewhat 
shaken  and  angered  by  this  sudden  call  upon  you  to 
take  an  utter  stranger  -  aye,  and  a  foreigner  -  by  the 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       129 


hand,     he  contmued.     "  You  have  heard  evil  things 
of  this  Spanish  family.     Well,  sir,  many  of  those  things 
are  true.    Richard,  noble  soul,  left  his  lands  and  Ws 
country  rather  than  join  in  the  evil.   I  was  young  then 
and  believed  the  lies  that  were  told  to  me'    But  now 
I  know  my  mistake,  and  Richard  knows  how  it  came 
about.    I  can  only  hope,  sir,  that  you  will  soon  under- 
stand me,  and  feel  no  longer  any  uneasiness  about 
takmg  my  hand." 

IVIr  Dariza  was  delighted  and  amazed  at  this 
speech  Forty  years  ago  Josef  had  shown  no  signs  of 
this  Christian  spirit.    Far  from  it. 

Mr   Fairwcod  did  not  seem  to  be  so  well  pleased, 
hough  he  was  completely  disarmed  by  the  Spaniard's 
attitude.       R.p  me,  but  you  talk  more  like  a  saint  than 
a  don,"  he  grumbled. 

If  any  one  had  been  watching  Alcazardo  at  that 
moment,  he  would  have  seen  a  flicker  of  apprehension 
pass  across  the  black  eyes. 

The  supper  passed  ofT  very  well.  Alcazardo  told 
some  capital  stories,  witty  enough  for  Mr.  Fairwood  and 
dehcate  enough  for  Isobel.  It  was  quite  evident  that, 
though  a  man  of  the  world,  he  was  possessed  of  a 
very  tender  heart.    After  supper  he  sang 

For  Mr.  Fairwood,  he  rendered  an  English  hunting- 
song  with  such  dash  and  vigour  that  the  Virgini^ 


130 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


■1 
t 


forgot  his  distrust  so  far  as  to  join  in  the  chorus.  For 
Isobel  and  his  brother  he  sang  a  plaintive  Spanish 
love  song  that  touched  them  both  to  tears.  Then  he  ex- 
cused himself  for  a  moment,  left  the  room,  and  pres- 
ently returned  with  a  violin. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  wine-red  coat  and  breeches, 
and  a  long  waistcoat  of  white  and  gold.  Instead  of 
showing  his  own  hair,  he  wore  a  fine  black  wig  that 
reached  to  his  shoulders.  As  he  stood,  tall  and  slen- 
der, with  his  back  to  the  hearth  and  the  candles 
on  the  chimney-piece,  he  looked  handsome  and  sinis- 
ter. He  raised  the  violin  to  his  breast  and  nestled 
his  chin  to  it.  The  bow  touched  the  strings  inquir- 
ingly. 

Then  his  right  hand  began  to  weave  and  lift,  flicker 
and  sink,  about  the  dark  and  glowing  instrument,  and 
mto  the  silent  room  flooded  such  a  wonder  of  melody 
^hat  Dariza  forgot  his  sorrow  and  Isobel  her  longing, 
and  the  sturdy  Fairwood  sat  back  in  his  chair  like  a 
man  in  a  trance. 

Now,  without  a  pause  or  break,  the  music  changed  in 
tone  and  rang  louder.  Then  days  of  riding  and  fighting 
came  back  to  Dariza,  and  Fairwood  remembere'd  the 
two  years  in  which  he  had  served  as  a  cornet  in  an 
English  cavalry  regiment,  and  Isobel  saw  her  lover 
adventuring  on  the  sea,  with  his  sword  at  his  side. 


•  w. 


A  Spanish  Gentleman  Arrives       131 


and  powder-smoke  on  the  water,  and  the  black  ship 
o  the  enemy  settling  to  leeward.  It  was  the  psaJm 
of  valour,  'ry  magic  purged  of  fear  and  regret.  And 
agam  the  music  changed. 

Dariza  covered  his  face  with  his  thin  hands.  Fair- 
wood  puckered  his  brows,  his  heart  turning  through 
dusky  ways  after  faces  long  forgotten. 

And  the  girl  remembered  again  the  wastes  of  tum- 
bling  sea  between  this  bright  room  and  her  young 

Next  day,  the  gentlemen  of  Admiral's  Pride  came  to 
Hopeland  to  pay  their  respects  to  Senor  Alcazardo. 
They  had  already  heard  something  about  him  trom 
Henry  Fairwood;  and  the  only  complimentary  thing 
Fainvood  had  said  was,  «'  He  plays  the  fiddle  like  .he 
devil  himself." 

So  they  eyed  the  stranger  keenly,  even  while  th.v 
shook  his  hand.  The  captain  wondered  what  th; 
ellow  was  after.  It  was  his  opinion  that  a  man  who 
has  let  a  mistake  go  uncorrected  for  a  matter  of  forty 
)-ears  does  not  travel  from  Spain  to  Virginia,  at 
last,  for  no  more  substantial  reason  than  to  set  it 
right. 

His  first  thought  was  that  Alcazardo  wanted  money. 
No  doubt  the  fellow  had  heard,  in  some  roundabout 
^^ay,  that  his  estranged  brother  was  very  comfortably 


132 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


s..ua.«i.  But  the  captain  was  not  so  crude  in  his 
methods  as  .Mr.  Fairwood.  Vi.h  a  bland  smile,  and 
a  question  now  and  then,  he  wont  to  work  to  discover 
the  Spaniard's  reason  for  visiting  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ISOBEL  SAILS  AWAY 

Captain  Drurie  learned,  by  his  questions  and  obser- 
vauon  that  Alcazardo  >vas  in  no  need  of  monev  Fe 
was  handsomely  oulfilled  with  both  clothing  and 
jewelry,  and  had  a  store  of  gold  coins  with  Jch  he 
was  remarkably  free. 

He  had  crossed  the  sea  without  a  servant.  That 
seemed  strange  to  every  one.  The  Spaniard  said  very 
httle  about  h:mself,  and  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  most 
modest  of  men;  but,  in  the  course  of  the  first  few  days 
of  his  viszt,  he  let  people  know  that  he  was  the  o^^^er  of 
a  house  m  Madrid,  and  of  another  in  the  country 

Questioned  briefly  by  Dari.a,  he  said  that  he'held 
none  of  the  old  family  possessions  -  that  all  those  lands 
and  houses  had  been  squandered  by  the  other  brothers 
-  but  that  his  own  little  property  represented  a  lifclin^e 
of  activity  m  the  service  of  his  countrv.  All  of  which 
sounded  very  fine -to  everybody  but  Henrv  Fair- 
wood. 

He,  doubting  gentleman,  did  not  believe  a  word  of 

133 


134 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


III 


It,  and  Ignored  the  visitor  completely  and  loftily  except 
on  such  occasions  as  the  violin  was  at  work.  One 
might  continue  to  hate  and  distrust  Alcaaardo  even 
when  he  was  making  music;  but  no  one  could  ignore 
him  then.  He  ^^  as  a  marvel  with  the  fiddle  -  and  even 
^Ir.  Fair^^•ood  had  to  admit  it. 

Isobcl  was  attracted  by  her  new  uncle,  although 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  like  his  face.  His  eyes 
at  times,  contained  an  inner,  sinister  light  that  chilled 
her  to  the  heart  in  spite  of  her  knowledge  of  his  gentle- 
ness. That  he  was  gentle  there  could  be  no  doubt. 
The  girl  had  seen  him  flinch  at  the  sight  of  a  driver 
lashing  .     ■  ubbom  horse. 

He  dexuted  himself  to  his  brother's  service,  cheering 
him  with  entertaining  conversation,  reading  aloud  to 
him,  and  even  watching  beside  his  bed  at  night  on 
mere  than  one  occasion. 

His  manner  was  forbearing  with  everv  one.  Even 
to  the  servants  he  showed  a  consideration  that  was 
charming  to  see  -  in  spite  of  which  net  one  of  them 
Had  a  good  word  for  him.  Indeed,  the  old  butler  and 
Max  hated  and  feared  him  to  such  an  extent  that  their 
black  faces  faded  to  the  hue  of  ashes  whenever  he 
looked  at  them. 

Isobel  admired  him  and  believed  in  him,  in  spite 
of  the  sinister  light  she  sometimes  caught  in  his  glance, 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


13J 


the  whispering  of  the  servants,  and  Uncle  Henry's 
snorts  of  scorn.  She  felt  that  she  and  her  father  under- 
stood him  and  that  the  others  did  not.  The  captain 
and  John  Mere  almost  as  suspicious  of  him  as  were 
Uncle  Henry  and  the  butler  and  the  valet.  But  this, 
she  said,  was  simply  because  they  were  men. 

^Icn,  no  matter  of  what  colour  or  class,  always 
look  askance  at  other  men  of  a  different  kind  than 
themselves,  or  of  a  kind  to  which  they  are  not  accus- 
tomed.    Had   Alcazardo   been    in    Englishman,   and 
skilled  in  fox-hunting  instead  of  in  violin- plaving,  and 
loud  of  voice  instead  of  quiet,  the  foolish  men  would 
have  accepted  him  with  delight.     She  said  that  this  was 
proved  by  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Drurie  admired  the  senor 
To  teU  the  truth,  Isobel  had,  as  far  as  she  could  see 
very  good  reasons  for  holding  Josef  Alcazardo  in  high 
esteem.    His  attitude  toward  her  was  one  of  unfailing 
affection  and  consideration;   and  one  dav,  findin*^  her 
alone  in  the  library,  he  Iiad  talked  to  her  of  Francis 
Drurie. 

This  alone  would  have  been  enough  to  win  the  girl's 
favour,  for  his  talk  had  been  so  hopeful,  so  tender.^lnd 
so  congratulatory,  that  she  had  quite  forgotten  the 
smister  gleam  in  his  eyes.  He,  who  had  never  set 
eyes  on  Francis,  had  talked  of  him  with  understanding 
and  admiration. 


^^^-yy 


136 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


As  for  pcor  Mr.  Dariza.  he  fairly  doted  on  the  Seftor 
Josef  Alcazardo.    It  was  a  wonder  even  to  Isobel,  to 
sec  and  hear  her  father  -  for  she  could  not  forget  the 
way  he  had  first  received  the  news  of  the  Spaniard's 
arrival.    Morning,  noon,  and  night,  he  was  ever  eager 
to  listen  to  Josef.    Josef's  presence  in  the  house  seemed 
to  keep  the  good  gentleman  in  a  continual  flutter  of 
pleasurable  excitement.    Weak  and  worn  as  he  was 
he  .-oulc  not  stay  in  his  bed  even  long  enough  to  have' 
IHS  breakfast  there.    No,  he  must  be  up  and  at  his 
post  so  as  not  to  miss  a  word  or  gesture  of  the  admirable 
Josef. 

•  The  thing  was  amazing  and  far  from  sane.  The 
^ct  that  the  poor  gentleman  no  longer  asked  about 
Dick  was  a  sign  that  thi.  absorption  in  Alcazardo  was 
largely  due  to  the  ilighty  state  of  his  mind.  The 
«!.^htincss  had  shifted,  that  was  all. 

Alcazardo  saw  and  understood,  and  acted  accord- 
ingly. ^  ho  had  suspected  his  brother's  mental  deranae- 
ment  m  the  first  mome.t  of  their  meeting.  Nowlie 
was  sure  of  it.  and  knew  how  to  piny  ujcn  the  weaken- 
ing heart  and  mind  even  as  upon  the  slender  strings 
and  frail  v>ood  of  his  virlin. 

Thougli  the  girl  was  c,ne  enough,  he  read  her 
weakness,  tec.  Kcr  weakness  was  entirely  of  the 
heart  -  and  in  the  ^.ound  he  saw  the  image  of  a 


hobel  Sails  Away 


ccrlam  young  gentleman  adven.urcr  named  Francis 
Drune  So,  ,o  ,hc  girl,  he  often  spoke  of  the  brave 
oung  fellow  .ho  was,  even  now,  facing  peri,  on  ,he 
deep  for  the  sake  of  ,he  woman  he  LZ;  bu.  he 
always  spoke  hopefully,  as  if  of  every  hundred  men 
who  went  seafaring  a  hundred  returned 

"I  know  the  sea,"  he  would  say.  "  I  have  sailed 
man,  a  voyage  myself,  here  and  there."  And  once, 
to  cheer  her  mu  of  an  an.,ious  m  ->d,  he  bade  her 
cor      er  the  master  and  the  butler  , ;   •,:  Ural's  Pride. 

no   t'  I  ■■ ""'  •"'  ""  ^''P'^'"  "-  -ITered 

noU„ng  worse  than  a  bullet  in  the  leg  and  the  old 
gunner  s  mate  .s  as  sound  as  a  bell." 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  girl  grew  to  like 
an  i  .rust  the  man  who  was  ever  quick  to  read  her  fears 
and  quiot  them?  u  ntriears 

>!r.  I)ariz.i  made  a  new  will.  His  wife  had  left 
one  c.neermng  the  property  that  had  come  from  her 
■>.  cf  ,„e  house  and  to  which  he  had  always  refused  to 
l>Jt  forward  anv  claim  In  suite  rl  >,:■ 
ne«tl,;-  -11  ,'  ,  '"  ^P"«  cf  hii  growing  weak- 
ness th,,  wm  he  refused  to  tamper  with.  M  the  time 
f  h.s  marnage  he  had  legally  vested  his  wife  v.ith  all 

letress,      and,  according  to  these  rights,  'she  had 

Hiuat-  her  w  al. 


„^ 


mJtl 


138 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


J] 


She  had  left  everything  in  trust  to  her  two  children, 
the  father  to  have  full  control  during  his  life,  and,  if  he 
should  die  before  either  the  boy  or  the  girl  was  of 
age,  the  control  of  the  lands  and  moneys  was  to  pass 
into  the  hands  of  her  brother,  Henry  Fairwood.  This 
will  had  ah-eady  been  given  to  Mr.  Fairwood  by  Mr. 
Dariza,  a  week  before  Alcazardo's  arrival.  But  Rich- 
ard Dariza  was  a  man  of  considerable  property  in  his 
own  right. 

Back  of  the  tobacco-fields  of  Hopeland  —  Hopeland 
itself  was  already  disposed  of  by  the  wife's  will  —  he 
possessed  many  square  miles  of  heavily  timbered 
wilderness,  some  of  which  had  ber  •  granted  to  him 
by  the  Crow.)  and  some  purchased  ah  his  own  money. 
Also,  he  owned  a  small  fori..ne  which  was  deposited 
with  a  London  banking-houbc,  and  shares  in  several 
trading-ships.  He  had  not  left  Spain  empty-handed, 
in  the  days  of  his  youth. 

So  Richard  Dariza,  gentleman,  of  Hopeland,  Kings 
County,  Virginia,  made  a  new  will.  A  lawyer  came 
from  King's  Haven  to  draw  it  up;  and  it  was  wit- 
nessed by  John  Druric,  Josef  Alcazardo,  and  the  good 
doctor,  who  thought  that  nothing  more  was  the  matter 
with  his  patient  than  a  "  fever  of  the  blood." 

Richard  Dariza  died  at  nine  o'clock  of  the  evening 
of  the  tenth  of  June.    He  died  in  his  library,  in  a  chair 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


139 


by  the  open  window,  with  his  daughter's  hand  in  his 
and  his  brother  talking  gently  of  the  little  Spanish 
village,  in  the  castle  above  which  they  had  both  been 
born. 

Death  came  so  softly,  so  swiftly,  that  Alcazardo 
went  on  with  his  story;  but  Isobel  bent  forward  and 
peered  into  her  father's  face,  startled  by  a  sudden  move- 
ment of  the  head  against  the  back  of  the  chair. 

The  girl's  grief  was  intense.  At  first  she  could  not 
believe  that  her  father's  spirit  had  shppcd  away,  but 
knelt  beside  the  chair,  calling  him  again  and  again 
and  clasping  the  cold  and  nerveless  hands. 

The  old  butler  entered  the  room,  carrying  a  branched 
candlestick  with  lighted  candles  in  each  hand. 

Alcazardo  went  quickly  forward,  took  the  candles 
from  him  and  placed  them  on  the  table. 

"  My  worthy  fellow,"  he  said,  very  gently  and  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  "your  good  ma-.ter  has  passed 
away." 

The  old  negro  stared  at  him,  far  too  greatly  dis- 
turbed by  his  address  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
the  words.  He  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  shuffled 
backward  a  step  or  two. 

"  Your  master  is  dead,"  said  Alcazardo,  a  trifle 
louder  than  before  and  a  shade  less  gently. 

"God  hab  mercy!     Lord  hab  mercv!  "  cried  the 


^^Q  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


butler;   and,  turning,  he  ran  from  the  library,  filling 
the  house  with  outcry  like  that  of  a  stricken  animal. 

Tne  other  servants  gathered  to  him.  Their  voices 
rang  shrill  through  that  house  of  death. 

Alcazardo,  cursing  the  blacks  in  his  heart,  went 
back  to  the  chair  where  the  girl  still  knelt  by  the  dead 
man.    He  put  his  right  arm  about  the  girl's  shoulders. 

"  Come,  dear,"  he  whispered.  "  Come  away  to 
your  rcom.  Be  brave.  You  must  not  stay  here 
Isobel." 

Without  a  word,  she  got  slowly  to  her  feet.  His  arm 
around  her,  holding  her  close  and  firm,  he  helped  her 
from  the  rcom.    Tiicy  crossed  the  unlit  hall  slowly.  ' 

At  the  foot  of  the  great  stairs  old  :,rax,  Dariza's 
body-servant,  sprang  up  in  front  of  them.  He  stood 
so  for  a  moment,  glaring  close  into  the  Spaniard's 
face;  then  he  slunk  back  against  the  wall. 

As  they  passed  the  old  fellow,  Alcazardo  looked  over 
his  shoulder  at  him  with  that  in  his  ej-es  that  tore  every 
fibre  of  courage  in  the  African's  heart.  Isobel  saw 
nothing  of  all  this,  for  her  face  was  hidden  against  her 
uncle's  shoulder. 

AIcai:ardo  supported  the  girl  to  the  door  of  her 
room.  Then  he  went  quietly  to  his  brother's  room, 
toe!;  the  pistol  from  the  table  and  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket,  and  returhod  to  the  library. 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


141 


Six  of  the  servants  —  two  women  and  four  men  — 
were  in  the  library,  squatting  around  the  chair  in 
which  the  dead  gentleman  sat  as  naturally  as  in  life, 
but  now  heedless  of  their  grief  and  devotion,  and  staring 
over  their  heads  with  blank  eyes.  They  cried  aloud  — 
and  their  voices  sounded  less  than  human. 

Alcazardo  had  heard  this  same  bestial  noise  in  the 
depths  of  tropical  jungles.  His  gorge  rose  in  his 
throat,  and  a  hot  devilish  desire  to  spring  upon  these 
childish,  foolish,  primitive  people  and  be?^  them  until 
the  blood  should  gush  from  their  black  hides  shook 
him  from  head  to  foot. 

Did  he  give  way  to  this  diabolical  urging  of  the 
senses?  No.  Josef  Alcazardo  n^-ver  lost  control  of 
himself  unless  he  chose  to.  He  paused  on  the  threshold 
for  a  second  or  tv.o,  breathing  quickly,  his  eyes  on  fire 
and  his  lean  face  horribly  distorted.  Then,  calm  and 
grave  of  face,  with  downcast  eyes  and  reverent  de- 
meanour, he  advanced  into  the  room.  Catching  sight 
of  him,  the  servants  ceased  their  wailing  and  scrambled 
to  their  feet. 

"  You  will  try  to  be  quiet,  I  am  sure,  for  the  sake 
of  your  poor  young  mistress,"  said  Josef.  "  The  sound 
of  your  grief  disturbs  her.  Two  of  you  must  carry 
your  master's  body  to  his  bed,  and  one  go  to  Mr. 
Fairwood  and  to  Admiral's  Pride  with  the  sad  news." 


m 


1 


III' 


142 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


No  word  was  spoken  in  answer;  but  four  of  the 
blacks  hurried  from  the  room.  The  old  butler  and  the 
old  body-servant  remained.  Alcazardo  stepped  close 
to  the  nerveless,  wide-eyed  thing  in  the  chair;  and  the 
two  old  men  shrank  away  from  him.  Their  fear  of 
him  was  as  clear  as  day  — but  he  made  no  sign  of 
noticing  it.  He  bent  above  the  body,  tenderly  closed 
the  eyes  and  bandaged  them  with  a  silk  handkerchief. 
He  crossed  the  cold  hands  on  the  quiet  breast. 

Then,  kncciing,  he  began  to  pray  aloud  in  the  Latin 
tongue.  Th(  prayers  v.cre  what  he  could  recall,  at 
so  short  a  notice,  of  a  religious  service  which  he  had 
neglected  for  over  forty  years.  But  what  matter  their 
meaning  so  long  as  they  were  \-oiced  in  words  unin- 
telligible to  his  audience?  He  made  the  holy  sign 
frequently.  He  bowed  his  head  almost  to  the  floor. 
Without  a  twinge  of  shame  or  fear,  and  for  no  other 
reason  than  to  befool  two  old  servants,  he  went  through 
a  travesty  of  religious  devotion  and  pleading. 

True,  the  prayers  did  not  liappcn  to  be  those  for  the 
dead;  but  wnat  matter.  They  were,  in  fact,  prayers 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving;  but  the  tone  of  grief  in 
his  voice,  and  the  strange  language  in  which  they  were 
spoken,  hid  their  real  nature  completely. 

At  last  he  rose.  One  hand  shading  his  eyes,  he 
motioned  with  the  other  to  the  spellbound  servajits. 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


143 


"  Take  the  poor  clay  up-stairs,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  shook. 

W.  1  Mr.  Fainvood  reached  the  house  he  flung 
open  the  front  door  and  tramped  violently  into  the 
Ubrary,  heart  and  head  full  of  a  black  suspicion  of 
murder.  He  swore  roundly  at  finding  the  room  de- 
serted. He  dashed  up  the  stairs  and  into  Dariza's 
room,  as  if  to  question  the  poor  body  of  the  manner 
of  lis  death.  But  he  halted  on  the  threshold,  and  all 
the  red  anger  went  out  of  his  big  face. 

The  body  of  his  friend  lay  straight  and  slim  in  the 
middle  of  the  great  bed,  covered  to  the  breast  with  a 
long,  black  cloth.  The  hands  were  pointed  upward  in 
the  dignified,  conventional  attitude  of  prayer.  The  face, 
no  longer  hidden  by  the  bandage,  wore  an  expression 
of  calm  severity  that  had  been  unknown  to  it  in  life. 
A  candle  burned  at  the  head  and  the  feet;  and  midway 
of  the  bed  knelt  Isobel  with  her  bark  to  the  door  and 
her  face  buried  in  the  pall. 

:Mr.  Fair  wood  had  known  that  his  friend  was  dead; 
but  he  had  not  realized  it  until  now.  Dead  ?  Lord, 
he  had  spoken  to  the  man  about  the  need  of  a  new 
fence  between  their  pastures  that  very  morning.  And 
now  look  at  him!  God  have  mercy  on  us!  A  man  is 
not  sure  of  his  next  meal  ~  or  his  next  breath.  Heavens, 
what  a  grim,  strange  look  on  his  face!    And  what  is 


-^'s^cfj-  A-sttm-^r, 


144 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


that  against  the  wall,  near  the  head  of  the  bed  ?  Is  it 
death?  No,  it  is  nothing  but  l  shadow.  Lord,  to 
think  that  poor  old  Dick  is  no  more  than  clay,  and  his 
immortal  soul  off  to  God  knows  where! 

Shaken  as  Mr.  Fairwood  was  by  the  sight  of  the 
quiet  dead  —  he  had  courage  enough  to  face  anything 
of  living  flesh  and  blood  —  he  did  not  obey  the  prompt- 
ings of  his  heart  and  hurry  from  the  room.    He  would 
have  done  so,  but  for  the  sight  of  the  desolate  girl. 
As  it  was,  he  stood  on  the  threshold  for  a  long  time 
muttering  strange  things  to  himself  and  trying  to  recover 
his  nerve;  then  he  moved  forward,  strongly  but  slowly, 
like  a  soldier  marching  through  deep  mud,  straight 
up  to  the  bed.    With  a  choking  sigh,  he  bumped  down 
on  his  knees  beside  the  girl  and  flung  his  arm  around 
her.    She  nestled  close  to  him.    She  had  known  who 
it  was  at  the  first  sound  of  the  heavy,  honest  footsteps. 
The  doctor  came  from  King's  Haven  and  announced 
that  Dariza's  death  was  due  to  the  fever  in  his  blood 
having  suddenly  ascended  to  his  brain.     This  was 
reasonable  enough,  surely. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  second  day  after  the 
death.  People  came  in  from  the  surrounding  country 
to  attend  it,  a  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  in 
every  direction.  The  gentlemen  were  not  very  cordial 
to  Alcazardo,  taking  their  cue  from  Mr.   Fairwood 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


145 


and  the  gentlemen  of  Admiral's  Pride.  The  Spaniard 
was  not  one  of  them.  There  seemed  something  sinister 
in  his  arrival  in  Virginia  so  shortly  previous  to  Dariza's 
death.  They  did  not  like  his  looks.  In  short,  they 
could  not  stomach  him,  despite  his  polite  and  mournful 
manners. 

When  the  contents  of  the  late  Richard  Dariza's 
will  became  known,  consternation  reigned  in  Fairwood 
Manor  and  Admiral's  Pride  —  more  especially  in 
Fairwood  Manor.  All  Dariza's  property  was  now  his 
son's  and  his  daughter's  —  his  daughter's  alone  in 
the  case  that  Richard  was  dead  or  could  not  be  found  — 
and  for  two  years  every  penny  of  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Senor  Jose]  Alcazar  do. 

There  was  the  rub!  For  these  two  years,  according 
to  the  will,  he  was  to  act  as  the  girl's  guardian;  but 
should  Richard  Fairwood  St.  George  Dariza  appear, 
the  property  was  to  be  at  once  divided,  and  not  only 
was  the  young  man  to  have  full  control  of  his  own 
share,  but  he  was  to  share  with  his  uncle  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  girl's,  for  the  aforementioned  term  of  two 
years,  or  for  such  fraction  of  that  time  as  still  remained 
after  his  appearance  or  di>-covery. 

Again,  if  Isobel  married  Francis  Drurie  within  two 
years  of  her  father's  death,  she  was  to  take  control  of 
her  property  immediately  upon  her  marriage.     This 


nil 


146 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


sounded  very  fine;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  there  was 
not  a  word  in  the  document  to  keep  Alcazardo  from 
disposing  of  every  pound  of  money  and  acre  of  land 
within  a  week  of  the  funeral.  The  game  was  in  his 
hands,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Henry  Fairwood  took  the  Senor  Josef  Alcazardo 
into  the  library,  closed  the  doors  and  the  windows, 
and  went  for  him  hot-tongued.  He  called  him  a  great 
many  things  that  are  not  fit  to  put  down  on  paper  -  - 
and  yet  he  did  not  tell  him  more  than  half  the  truth. 
He  called  him  a  liar,  a  sneak,  and  a  thief.  Well,  had 
he  only  known  it,  he  might  very  properly  have  gone 
on  to  much  worse.  He  shook  his  big  fist  under  the 
eagle  nose.  He  glared  into  the  black,  sinister  eyes. 
He  went  on  at  such  a  rate  that  Alcazardo  at  last  cried 
out,  with  a  dramatic  upfiing  of  the  right  hand,  that 
honour  demanded  a  duel  lo  the  death. 

Did  he  think  to  intimidate  old  Fairwood,  I  wonder  ? 
If  so,  there  he  made  a  grave  mistake.  Nothing  would 
please  the  old  man  better  than  an  excuse  for  attackint^ 
Alcazardo  with  pistol,  sword,  club,  or  empty  hands. 
That  was  what  he  was  working  for  and  had  been 
nursing  in  his  mind  for  some  time.  If  the  other  could 
be  brought  to  a  duel,  it  was  even  chances  that  he  would 
kill  the  unprincipled  adventurer.  That  would  simplify 
everything.     If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  should  be  so 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


147 


unfortunate  as  to  die  himself,  he  would  leave  good 
men,  such  as  Captain  Drurie,  behind  him,  and  Isobel 
and  her  prop.ity  would  be  in  no  more  danger  than  now. 
"A  fight  to  the  death'"  he  cried.  "Thank  God 
for  the  thought!  Come,  now,  stop  your  cursed  play- 
acting and  arrange  for  the  duel.  To-night  will  do, 
and  down  in  my  woodlands  is  a  pretty  place.  Drurie 
will  support  me  and  you  can  have  young  John.  There'll 
be  no  need  for  a  sxorgeon." 

That  changed  Alcazardo's  tune  as  quick  as  a  flash. 
That  was  the  last  thing  in  the  world  that  he  wanted. 
With  a  bullet  through  him,  where,  then,  would  be 
his  fine  plans  for  the  future  ?  Oh,  no,  he  had  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  running  the  risk  of  being  killed 
by  that  pig  of  a  Virginian.  That  would  be  a  poor 
reward  for  all  these  weeks  of  smirking  and  bowing  and 
play-acting. 

"  You  blind  yourself  to  my  position.  You  know 
that  I  cannot  fight  j-ou,  with  this  sacred  charge  left 
to  me,"  he  replied  to  Fairwood.  "  I  spoke,  a  moment 
ago,  in  a  fit  of  stupid  temper.    I  cannot  fight  you." 

Nothing  that  Fairwood  could  say  or  do  could  bring 
about  a  duel.  He  raged  like  a  madman.  At  last  he 
told  Alcazardo  to  leave  the  house  within  the  hour, 
bag  and  baggage,  and  never  to  set  foot  in  it  again  on 
pain  of  being  shot  like  a  dangerous  hound. 


148  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 

"  You'll  find  that  I  am  master  of  this  house,  by  a 
will  you  could  not  change,  you  white-livered  swine! " 
he  roared. 

Alcazardo  set  out  for  the  inn  at  King's  Haven  before 
the  hour  was  out;  but  ere  he  left,  told  Isobel  his  own 
little  story.  The  honest,  credulous  girl  looked  upon 
him  as  a  hero  and  a  martyr.  She  felt  that  her  father 
ctuld  have  made  no  mistake  in  the  character  of  his 
brother.  Her  own  heart  told  her  that  he  was  to  be 
trusted. 

Immediately  upon  reaching  King's  Haven,  Al- 
cazardo wrote  a  long  and  wonderful  letter  to  his  ward, 
and  posted  it  to  her  after  nightfall,  by  one  of  the 
grooms  at  the  inn.  He  explained  the  impossibiUty 
of  his  staying  in  Virginia,  where  he  was  so  misunder- 
stood. He  could  not  leave  her,  however,  for  he  loved 
her  as  he  would  a  daughter  of  his  own.  ^^-ould  she 
sail  with  him  to  England  ? 

They  would  make  every  effort  to  discover  Richard 
in  case  he  still  lived;  and  there  they  would  welcome 
Francis  Drurie  on  his  return  from  the  northern  voyage. 
He  weighed  every  word  with  devilish  cunning;  and 
not  a  v.ord  did  he  write  against  Mr.  Fairwood  or 
Captain  Drurie.  He  said  that  they  were  slow  to  extend 
friendship  to  a  man  of  a  different  blood  —  that  was 
alL 


Isobel  Sails  Away 


149 


Alcazardo  worked  in  the  dark.  Men  were  paid  to 
keep  quiet  about  his  moves.  He  seemed  to  liave 
plenty  of  gold  with  which  to  buy  silence;  but  you 
may  be  sure  that  he  got  his  money's  worth.  He  sold 
the  woodlands  behind  the  Dariza  place,  very  secretly. 

One  fine  morning  in  July  Isobel  drove  to  King's 
Haven.  It  was  four  o'clock  when  they  left  the  house. 
The  horses  were  put  to  their  best  speed  throughout 
the  journey.  Alcazardo  met  her  and  they  went  im- 
mediately aboard  the  brig  Heron.  \\'ithin  ten  minutes 
of  that  the  brig  swung  from  the  wharf;  and  she  was 
hull  down  by  the  time  Mr.  Fairwood  and  Captain 
Drurie  dashed  through  the  town  on  sweating  horses. 


i 


CHAPTER  Xiri 

t.sobel's  discovery 

Long  Ixfor  ''InglaiK.  was  reached  b\-  the  brio 
Heron,  I  ,bcl  JJaii/:.  wa^  almost  frantic  w  Lh  rciiiorse 
for  having  left  Vir-iiua,  an  1  her  old  frien  's  there,  in 
so  hasty  and  secret  a  manner.  But  she  tri.  cl  to  hide 
her  suiTcring  from  her  mcle.  He  sdw,  a;  a  glance, 
what  the  trouble  was,  however,  an.i  did  his  best  to 
cheer  her.  In  fact,  throughout  the  entire  vovage,  e 
acted  with  the  greatest  kinrlness  !  consideration 
toward  the  grieving  girl.  His  seas-.n  vi  play-acting 
was  not  yet  over;  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  spoil  a 
good  performance  by  haste  or  careL^ness  in  the  la^t 
act. 

On  reaching  the  port  cf  T^ondon,  Alcazardo  ok 
his  ward  to  the  bc^t  inn  in  thr  town,  and  lavi^  xl 
upon  her  all  manner  of  gifts.  He  told  her  that  tiis 
visit  to  London  was  purely  for  business  pur-  .r-es; 
that  he  wished  to  follow  a  certain  clue  that  might 
lead  to  some  information  concerning  Richard—  his 
had  no  foundauon  whatever  — and  that  he  mtem..  1 

160 


lii- 


Isobel's  Discovery 


151 


looking  int(  th^  state  ( '  tk  banking-house  in  wh?ch 
her  money  and  ncr  Drothcr's  had  reposed  for  so  i  lany 
years.  Whether  'he  stay  in  Lon  ion  should  be  brief 
or  long  depended  '  n  t  ie  clue. 

She  was      uchinglv  a  rati 
was    akin^   .      her.    He  ^pc 
the    state   of    ihe  m'' 

baggaj.  ■  was  c  )nsi' 


end  of    'ie  week 
reirirk.     !c.     '■ 
la.-!   :ha    had 
the  peT-=-n  \h. 
calli      t. 
pc-t.     H    V, 
]     bol  a<j^ 
was  I 
autun; 
land  a 


x)iniL 


•r  all  the  trouble  he 
a  week  in  looking  into 
^e,    and    his   per?  '  al 
ised  i     weight  by     a 
—      V,  it  was  reafly 
un,  o.      '  places.    The 
f  the  pcrsoi.  who  might  be 
>cre  looking  for  was  aboard  a  s'lip 
Brothers,    bound  for   some   Span    h 
a  iX)rn  romancer,  was  Josef  AIcnzs^K). 
d  with  her  uncle  that  the  best  *hi       -o 
'o  Spain  and  follow  the  clue;    aii 
r      iccessful  or  not,  to  return  to  Ln^ 
t  in     iistol  for  Francis  Drurie.    Duri 


their  bi  it:  ay  in  London,  Isobel  wTote  several  letters 
to  \-irgmi:.  —  to  her  uncle,  and  to  Captain  and  Mrs. 
r>  uric. 

hese  letters  were  sent  acro^.-  the  ocean  in  sure 
iiand  and  by  the  first  opportunity,  for  Alcazardo 
wa  v..  il  n  re  that  they  contained  nothing  but  good 
of  bin  It  tickled  his  queer  sense  of  humour  to 

picture  uiL  bewilderment  of  Fairwood  and  the  Druries 


152 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


if  '^ 


:     I 


i! 


ill  j 


III 

f  HP 


upon  reading  that  he  was  still  the  kindly,  affectionate 
gentleman  that  he  had  pretended  to  be. 

Alcazardo  spoke,  at  first,  of  going  to  Madrid;  but 
he  changed  his  plans  suddenly,  for  some  reason  un- 
known to  Isobel.  They  travelled  to  Cadiz,  by  easy 
stages  and  in  the  most  comfortable  manner  possible. 
They  went  directly  to  a  large  house  outside  the  city. 
It  was  an  old  house,  scantily  furnished  and  pervaded 
with  an  atmosphere  of  emptiness  and  decay,  as  if  it 
had  been  uninhabited  and  neglected  for  many  years. 

The  only  servant  in  the  house,  at  the  time  of  their 
arrival,  was  one  old  man.  Alcazardo  told  the  old 
fellow  to  engage  immediately  a  cook  and  a  young 
woman  to  wait  upQn  his  ward.  The  other  shut  one 
eye  and  screwed  up  his  mouth  at  this,  as  if  to  say  that 
it  was  not  as  easy  as  it  sounded.  The  master  drew  him 
to  one  side  by  the  front  of  his  faded  coat. 

■"  Here  is  a  little  gift  for  you,  my  faithful  Juan," 
he  said,  pressing  a  gold  coin  into  the  old  fellow's 
palm.  "The  wages  shall  be  large  for  the  cook  and 
the  maid  —  yes,  and  the  service  easy,"  he  continued. 
"  See,  here  is  something  for  each  of  them  in  advance." 
He  put  another  coin  into  the  ready  palm.  "  Come 
now,  Juan,  do  your  best." 

Juan  nodded.  "  I  know  the  very  people  for  you, 
seflor"  he  said.    "  My  daughter  for  the  cooking,  and 


Isobel's  Discovery 


153 


her  daughter  to  wait  upon  the  beautiful  young  lady 
who  is  your  niece." 

So  it  happened  that,  at  dusk  of  the  day  of  their 

arrival  at  the  desolate  house,  a  well-cooked  meal  was 

served  to  them;   and,  later,  when  Isobel  retired,  she 

was  attended  by  a  dark  maid  named  Maria,  who  not 

only  unpacked    her  boxes  for  her  and   helped  her 

prepare  for  sleep,  but  retired  to  a  couch  in  the  same 

room.     The  lonely  girl  was  thankful,  for  the  great 

bedchamber  was  not  a  cheerful  place  for  a  young  lady 

to  sleep  in  ilone. 

During  the  next  week  neither  Josef  Alcazardo  nor 
his  ward  went  any  farther  from  the  house  than  the 
stone  wall  that  surrounded  the  tangled  gardens  and 
neglected  orchard.  Isobel  was  homesick,  and  the 
desolate  house  and  grounds  depressed  her  like  a  night- 
mare. She  asked  her  uncle  to  take  her  to  the  city  of 
Cadiz,  if  only  for  half  a  day,  that  she  might  rouse  her 
spirits  with  sightseemg. 

"  Not  now.  But  next  week,  perhaps,  if  I  am  not 
too  busy,"  he  replied.  He  did  not  speak  as  if  he  were 
sorry  not  to  be  able  to  oblige  her. 

She  looked  at  him  in  frightened  bewilderment.  He 
met  the  glance  coolly;  then  turned  and  left  the  room. 
But  in  a  moment  he  was  back  again,  for  he  had  almost 
shown  the  cloven-hoof  too  soon. 


154 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Ml 


\\i 


ff      '' 


"  You  must  try  to  forgive  me,  my  dear  little  daugh- 
ter," he  said  contritely.  "  I  am  worried  now.  I  have 
troubles.  But  in  a  few  days  things  will  be  well  with 
me  again." 

And  so  the  sudden,  vague  terror  that  had  stirred 
in  her  heart  sank  to  rest  —  for  a  little  while. 

Only  two  visitors  ever  came  to  the  house  during 
Isobel's  stay  in  it.  The  first  was  a  short,  black-bearded 
man  of  seafaring  look,  who  came  to  see  Alcazardo. 
He  had  been  searching  for  him  for  several  months,  he 
said.  He  seemed  in  a  very  bad  humour  at  the  beginning 
of  his  first  \isit.  He  called  twice  —  after  dusk,  and 
with  only  a  day's  interval. 

Though  Isobel  did  not  see  him  on  either  occasion, 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her.  Such  gentry  have  a  way 
of  seeing  and  not  being  seen. 

Each  call  lasted  several  hours,  during  which  time 
he  and  Alcazardo  were  closeted  together  in  a  small 
room  on  the  ground  floor. 

The  old  servant  — a  sly  old  dog  who  wanted  to 
increase  his  knowledge  of  his  mysterious  master's 
affairs  —  listened  each  night  with  his  ear  to  the  door. 
But  he  failed  to  hear  anything  more  enlightening  than 
a  busy,  senseless  mumble  of  conversation,  and  once 
the  jingle  of  shattered  glass.  The  other  visitor  was  a 
person  of  no  importance  in  himself;   but  was  to  play 


Isobel's  Discovery 


155 


an  important,  though  humble,  part  in  Isobel's  affairs 
as  you  shall  see.  ' 

When  Maria  brought  up  Isobel's  breakfast  on  the 
morning  after  the  black-bearded  man's  last  visit,  she 
brought  also  a  note  for  her  from  her  guardian.  It 
was  brief,  but  affectionate.    This  was  the  way  of  it: 

"I  have  been   called  away,   in   haste,  on   urgent 
busmess.    I  hope  to  be  back  by  nightfall;  but  if  not, 
you  shall  hear  from  me.    Be  of  good  cheer. 
"  Your  affectionate 

"Uncle  and  Guardian." 

This  note  filled  the  girl  with  wonder  and  appre- 
h  nsion.  What  was  this  urgent  business  of  Alcazardo's, 
of  which  he  had  not  told  a  word  to  her?  And  where' 
u:-d  he  gone  to  for  its  transaction?  And  why  were 
his  movements  so  sudden  and  secret?  She  sent  for 
old  Juan,  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  time  and  manner 
of  his  master's  departure. 

The  old  fellow  told  all  he  knew  gladly  enough;  but 
he  knew  very  little.  The  senor  had  said  nothing  to 
him  about  going  away;  but  he  had  been  awakened,  a 
littl-^  Mter  midnight,  by  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the 
co>  .i. .  Df  the  yard.  On  looking  from  his  window 
he  i  •  '  seen  a  chaise  in  the  yard,  wth  two  horses  in 


d 


:  f]  m    -■ 

III-; 


art 


156 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


the  harness.      A  lantern  wavered  about,  held    by  a 
peasant  who  stood  at  the  horses'  heads. 

Then  he  had  seen  his  master  come  from  a  small 
door  that  opened  from  the  basement  upon  the  yard. 
He  was  tugging  a  heavy  bag  in  each  hand.  Ha\'ing 
placed  these  inside  the  chaise,  he  went  back  to  the 
house,  reappearing  in  a  minute  with  two  more  bags. 
With  these  he  mounted  into  the  chaise.  Then  the 
peasant  got  up  in  front,  and  they  drove  awa}-. 

Isobel's  curiosity  was  excited.  What  was  the  reason 
of  this  midnight  departure,  made  without  the  knowledge 
of  herself  cr  Juan  ?  One  would  think  that  he  would 
have  awakened  the  old  man,  if  only  to  carry  the  bags 
for  him.  And  v.hat  could  have  been  the  contents  of 
those  heavy  bags?  She  went  to  the  door  cf  her  uncle's 
room.  It  was  locked.  She  searched  the  house  for 
keys,  but  could  find  nothing  to  serve  her  purpose. 

A  vague  suspicion  of  Alcazardo  was  growing  in  her 
mind.  It  was  more  a  suspicion  of  misfortune  than  of 
evil  intention  —  a  suspicion  that  worldly  afiFairs  were 
not  in  such  prosperous  condition  as  he  had  pretended. 
If  this  should  prove  to  be  the  case,  she  was  willing  that 
he  should  use  some  of  her  money  for  his  needs. 

Sending  for  Juan  again,  she  questioned  him  craftily, 
giving  him  the  idea  that  she  had  expected  this  sudden 
departure  of  her  uncle's,  and  was  yet  somewhat  worried 


Isobel's  Discovery 


157 


about  it.  She  hinted  that  it  had  something  to  do  with 
a  commercial  venture  — the  freighting  of  a  ship  in 
which  she  and  the  senor  were  interested  —  undertaken 
agamst  her  saner  judgment. 

The  old  man  was  as  simple  as  he  considered  himself 
deep.  He  was  flattered  by  the  young  lady's  con- 
fidences. 

"  That  would  be  it,"  he  said.  "  The  seafaring  man 
would  certainly  be  the  captain  of  the  ship." 

And  so  he  went  on,  needing  no  questioning,  and  told 
what  he  knew  of  the  man  with  the  black  beard.    From 
that  he  wandered  to  other  things,  and  let  faU  the  fact 
that  it  was  now  almost  four  years  since  the  senor's 
last  visit.    Yes,  he  owned  the  house.    Yes,  he  beUeved 
he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  Madrid;  but  he  was  not 
sure  of  that.    No,  the  senor  did  not  seem  to  have  anv 
friends  in  Cadiz.    Oh,  he  was  an  uncertain  gentleman, 
and  a  great  spender  of  money.    Of  that  Juan  was  sure, 
though  he  swore  that  he  never  sa^v  much  of  it  himself! 
Isobel  was  thinking  of  retiring,   and  Maria  waJ 
sewing  busily  by  the  light  of  their  single  candle,  when 
Juan  came  rapping  at  the  door. 

He  was  greatly  cT,:ited  and  had  a  letter  in  his  hand 
for  the  young  lady.  He  said  that  it  had  been  brought 
by  a  rustic  youth  who  even  now  waited  in  the  yard 
with  a  large,  covered  carriage  and  two  horses. 


i 


■'■J 


IS 


I-  ■ 


158 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Isobel  n  d  the  letter  eagerly,  and  gave  a  little  cry 
of  delight.    It  was  from  Alcazardo. 

He  stated  concisely  that  he  had  to  sail  for  England 
in  the  morning;  and  that,  unless  she  wanted  to  stay 
in  Spain,  she  was  to  pack  her  most  valued  possessions 
immediately  and  accompany  the  bearer  of  the  note. 

Within  half  an  hour  of  receiving  the  letter,  Isobel 
and  her  maid  were  rolling  along  unknown  roads  in 
the  great  carriage.  So  they  travelled  all  night;  and 
at  the  lift  of  dawn  the  carriage  came  to  a  standstill 
before  a  dilapidated  hut  on  the  seacoast. 

Here  v.ere  Alcazardo  and  the  man  with  the  black 
beard,  and  four  rough-cut  mariners,  impatiently 
awaiting  their  arrival.  Alcazardo  seemed  very  nervous, 
and  was  undoubtedly  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  get  away 
from  the  coast  of  Spain.  He  all  but  dragged  his  ward 
and  her  maid  from  the  carriage,  and  then  snatched 
out  their  baggage  and  ordered  the  sailors  to  rush  it 
down  to  the  boat.  He  paid  the  driver  of  the  carriage, 
and  sent  him  about  his  business.  He  had  not  a  decent 
word  for  any  one,  but  continually  urged  haste,  as  if  the 
de\il  himself  were  at  his  heels. 

The  boat  down  at  the  edge  of  the  tide  was  akeady 
partially  loaded.  The  work  was  completed  in  a  very 
few  minutes  after  the  arrival  of  the  carriage,  and  the 
boat  crawled  heavily  seaward.    Isobel  and  Maria  sat 


'^.'■^ 


Isobel's  Discovery 


159 


in  the  stern  beside  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  who 
held  the  tiller.  The  sailors  bent  to  the  oars,  and  Alca 
zardo  reclined  in  the  bow.  Several  miles  to  seaward 
the  level  sunlight  flamed  white  on  the  sails  of  two  vessels 
that  stood  off  and  on.  Isobel  noticed  it  and  thought  it 
beautiful  —  and  then  she  leaned  sideways  a  little"  and 
dosed  her  eyes.  She  had  not  caught  a  minute's  sleep 
during  the  night,  and  now  her  eyeUds  ached.  The 
motion  of  the  boat  over  the  little  waves  was  very 
soothing. 

One  of  the  vessels  — the  smaller  of  the  two — 
veered  in  toward  the  boat.  It  was  a  fine  little  topsail- 
schooner,  heavily  sparred  and  with  huU  and  canvas  as 
white  as  shell.    It  lay-to  and  the  boat  ran  alongside. 

AJrazardo  sprang  to  the  deck.  Isobel  awoke,  and 
she  and  :Maria  were  passed  skilfully  up.  The  luggage 
foUowed  them  m  short  order.  Then  the  boat  puSied 
away  from  the  side  of  the  schponer  and  shaped  her 
course  for  the  other  vessel,  which  lay  within  a  half 
mile;  and  the  schooner  fell  away  before  the  wind. 

It  was  then  that  Isobel  discovered  the  loss  of  the 
Httle  gold  cross  from  her  neck  —  the  cross  which  her 
lover  had  given  her.  It  must  have  broken  from  her 
neck  in  the  boat  while  she  slept.  The  chain  was  very 
thin  —  the  gentleman  with  the  beard  had  noticed  that. 
The  little  schooner  danced  along,  with  just  what 


II 


160 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


wind  she  needed  to  keep  the  wrinkles  out  of  her  sails. 
So  she  danced  all  that  golden  day  and  all  the  silver 
night.  Next  morning  Isobel  asked  her  uncle  how  long 
it  would  be  before  they  reached  England.  He  looked 
at  her  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  a  horrid  gleam  in  his 
eyes. 

"  My  dear,  foolish  girl,  we  are  not  going  to  England," 
he  said. 

"Not  going  to  England!"  she  repeated,  with 
horror  in  her  voice. 

"We  are  bound  for  a  snug  little  island  in  the  West 
Indies,"  he  replied  with  a  leer.  '« An  island  where 
my  whim  is  the  only  law,  even  as  it  is  aboard  this 
ship." 

The  girl  uttered  an  inarticulate  cry  and  sank  to  the 
deck. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FRANCIS  DRURIE  RETURNS  TO  BRISTOL 

The  Brave  Adventure  outsailed  the  other  ships  of 
the  fleet,  and  got  back  to  Bristol  in  the  first  week  of 
November.  A  crowd  of  townspeople  of  all  classes  and 
callings  gathered  on  the  water-front  to  see  the  little 
vessel  furl  and  make  fast  after  her  daring  voyage. 

Here  were  shareholders  of  the  Royal  Company, 
anxious  to  see  and  hear  how  the  expedition  had  fared  J 
noblemen  attracted  by  the  romance  of  tHe  voyage,  and 
merchants  attracted  by  other  considerations;  and  all 
manner  of  idle  folk,  curious  and  looking  for  a  little 
excitement. 

Cheering  thundered  out  from  the  crowd,  and  rang 
back  heartily  from  the  Brave  Adventure.  The  gray 
sails  dwindled  and  vanished,  one  by  one.  At  last 
drawing  in  with  no  more  than  steerageway,  the  stout 
little  craft  swung  to  starboard  and  settled  in  against 
her  wharf.  The  cheering  rose  higher,  and  willing 
hands  made  her  fast. 

The  commander  of  the  Brave  Adventure  was   the 

161 


f 


162 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


3 


lit 


first  to  step  ashore,  followed  close  by  the  master 
and  the  gentlemen  of  the  ship.  The  important 
people  clustered  around  them  with  expressions  of 
welcome  and  "ood  will  and  eager  questions.  "  Where 
are  the  other  ships?"  "How  fared  the  crew?" 
"  What  success?  " 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Drurie.  "  I  thank  you  all,  in 
the  name  of  the  ship's  company,  for  your  consideration. 
As  far  as  we  know,  the  other  vessels  are  safe;  but 
they  do  not  sail  fast  enough  to  keep  in  si^'ht  of  the 
Brave  Adventure.  We  summered  well,  and  made  safe 
voyages  both  ways.  We  founded  a  strong  fcrt,  in  the 
name  of  God  and  the  king.  We  have  a  fme  cargo  of 
peltries  under  hatches." 

Every  one  cheered  violently  at  that  —  including 
those  who  had  not  heard  a  word  of  it. 

Master  Smithers  grabbed  Drurie  by  the  elbow. 
"  Come,  captain,"  he  cried  heartily,  "  dinner  awaits 
you  in  your  own  inn.  I  ordered  it  when  ycu  were 
first  sighted." 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Cremona^"  asked 
Drurie,  after  the  greetings  were  over. 

"  Not  a  feather  of  him,"  replied  the  merchant. 
"  But  come  along.  The  dinner  waits.  Make  way  for 
the  commander  of  the  Brave  Adventure,"  he  cried  to 
the  people  in  his  path.    "  Make  way  for  the  gallant 


m 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol 


163 


adventurer  who  has  not  tasted  English  roast  for  six 
months." 

"  Give  him  his  fill  o'  the  best!"  cried  the  crowd 
"  He  is  a  fine  lad.     He  is  a  great  sailor.     Way  for 
Captain  Drurie  there!    Way  for  the  commander  o'  the 
Brave  Adventure."' 

So  they  made  the  slow  but  glorious  journey  up  the 
wharf,  with  Nicholas  at  their  heels,  carrying  a  bag  and 
lookmg  twice  as  broad  as  when  he  sailed  away  with 
his  Virginian  master. 

Smithers  had  a  packet  of  letters  for  Francis;  but 
he  refused  to  give  them  to  him  until  the  dinner  was 
over  and  se^•eral  rounds  of  congratulations  had  been 
drunk.  Then  he  left  the  commander  to  his  mail  and 
returned  to  the  water-front  to  watch  the  unloading  of 
the  valuable  cargo  of  the  Brave  Adventure. 

First  of  all,  Francis  opened  the  letter  addressed  in 
Isobel's  writing.  It  was  in  three  parts;  the  first 
dated  on  the  ^■cry  day  after  his  departure  from  Vir- 
gmia,  and  added  to  time  and  again;  the  second, 
begun  soon  after  the  urival  at  Hopeland  of  Josef 
Alcazardo,  and  full  of  appreciation  of  that  gentleman's 
good  qualities;  and  the  third,  written  after  Mr.  Dariza'^ 
death. 

It  was  not  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  old  friend 
that  shocked  him  most  keenly  in  the  last  portion  of  the 


11 


KM 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


r- 


letter,  but  the  girl's  anger  against  Mr.  Fairuood  and 
Captain  Drurie  for  their  treatment  of  her  Spanish 
uncle.  What  cnuld  she  say  of  the  stranger's  virtues  to 
outweigh  the  fact  that  he  had  already  caused  trouble 
between  herself  and  her  loyal,  old-time  friends? 

His  heart  was  chilled  with  fear  at  the  thought  that 
a  man  whom  the  captain  and  f^airwood  did  not  treat 
cordially  had  won  the  trust  cf  the  girl  he  loved.  He 
felt  sure  that  those  two  honest  gentlemen  were  not 
likely  to  make  any  mistake  in  their  reading  of  the 
stranger.  They  knew  mankind  and  the  world.  They 
would  never  treat  an  honest  man  with  anything  but 
consideration  and  fairness. 

With  hands  that  trembled,  Francis  broke  the  seal 

of  his  father's  letter.    It  was  short  and  of  fairly  recent 

date  —  in  fact,  it  had  been  written  immediately  after 

the  arrival  in  Virginia  of  Isobel's  letters  from  London. 

The  captain  dealt  briefly  with  the  arrival  of  Alcazardo 

in  Virginia,  Darlxa's  death,  and  the  remarkable  will. 

Without  comment,  he  mentioned  the  fact  that  Fairwood 

had  done  his  best  to  incite  Alcazardo  to  a  duel,  and  that 

the  fellow  had  accepted  the  gravest  insults  without 

responding.    He  wrote  that  Isobel,  poor  girl,  had  not 

understood  Fairwood's  good  reason  for  his  treatment  of 

the  other. 

He  skipped  over  the  ilighi  of  Isobel  and  her  guardian 


Francis  Drurie   Returns  to  Bristol   16 » 


with  very  few  words;  but  he  made  the  most  of  the 
letters  which  Isobel  had  sent  back  to  Virginia  from 
London. 

"Who  can  sa-  if  the  girl  is  right  or  we  are  right, 
after  all  ?  "  he  concluded.  "  Only  Heaven  knows  what 
is  in  that  black-eyed  fellow's  heart.  He  has  begun 
well,  as  far  as  Isobel  is  concerned,  at  any  rate;  so  let 
us  hope  that  Henry  Fairwood  and  I  have  been  nothing 
but  a  pair  of  old  fools  in  this  matter." 

Then,  feeling  a  little  easier  in  his  mind,  Francis  read 
the  communication  from  Mr.  Fairwood.  It  was  not 
comforting.  The  hot-headed  old  Virginian  put  down 
his  opinion  of  Alcazardo  in  black  and  white.  He  drew 
his  picture  to  a  hair.  T'-  nJied  him,  to  Francis,  the 
same  names  that  he  hac    -  <   n    "n  to  his  own  face. 

For  an  hour  the  young  r  an  s.a:  in  his  chair  by  the 
table,  with  his  face  betwcf  ;  ii'-,  Ha.ids,  trying  to  pictur 
the  last  few  months  of  Isobel's  life.    He  derived  '  o 
hope  now  from  the  fact  that  she  had  written  home  from 
London;  for  why  had  she  not  written  to  Bristol  since 
then?    Or,  for  that  matter,  if  there  had  been  any  truth 
in  Alcazardo's  promises,  why  were  they  not  both  in 
Bristcil  at  this  moment?    At  last  he  rang  for  Nicholas 
and  told  him  to  search  the  town  for  news  of  a  Senor 
Josef  Alcazardo  and  his  ward. 
Francis  left  his  chair  by  the  table  and  paced  feverishly 


166 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


r!  ^!S 


up  and  down  the  room,  his  hands  gripped  together 
behind  him  and  his  chin  on  his  breist.  The  most 
unhappy  imaginings  fiUed  his  mind.  Strive  as  he 
would,  he  could  not  accept  Isobel's  value  of  this  man 
Alcazardo. 

As  far  as  London,  evidently,  the  man  had  played 
his  game;  but  after  that,  when  there  was  no  more 
need  of  playmg,  what  had  he  done?  Of  course,  he 
had  possessed  himself  of  the  money.  Curse  the 
money!  He  was  welcome  to  it.  But  what  had  he  done 
with  the  girl  — when  no  more  was  to  be  gained  by 
pretending  to  be  her  guardian?  Had  he  deserted 
her  m  London  ? 

"  I  start  for  London  to-morrow,"  he  cried  harshly 
in  answer  to  the  thought. 

Had  Francis  known  Alcazardo,  that  fear  of  physical 
desertion  would  not  have  troubled  him.  Alcazardo's 
devilment  was  of  a  more  refined  variety.  He  Hked 
people  to  suffer  under  his  eyes.  He  liked  to  contem- 
plate the  results  of  his  work.  He  liked  to  play  with  his 
victims  —  to  wm  their  trust,  then  their  hate  and  fear 
—  to  cast  them  to  the  depths,  give  them  a  gUmpse  of 
hope  and  cast  them  do\vn  again.  But  how  was  poor 
young  Drurie  to  know  that  his  sweetheart's  uncle  was 
such  an  original  kind  of  devil? 
He  was  still  pacmg  back  and  forth,  and  dusk  was 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  167 


filling. the  room,  when  a  knock  came  to  the  door 
"  Come  in,"  he  said,  pausing  by  the  window. 

Tne  door  opened,  and  two  men  entered  and  stood 
without  a  u-ord.    Both  wore  long  cloaks  which  reached 
almost  to  the  floor;  and  in  the  dusk  Francis  could  dis- 
cern nothing  of  their  faces.    Their  hats  were  still  on 
their  heads.     Francis  was  sorry  that  he  had  not  a 
lighted  candle  in  the  room. 
"  WeU,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  he  inquired  steadily. 
And  still  the  cloaked  men  maintained  their  silence 
and  their  hats.    Francis,  worried   almost  to  despera- 
tion by  the  news  he  had  read  in  his  letters,  was  in 
no  mood  to  be  tampered  with  by  any  two  men  in  the 
world. 

He  stepped  forward  briskly,  and  with  a  swift  stroke 
of  the  hand  sent  the  hat  of  the  taller  of  the  two  spinning 
to  the  floor. 

"Off  she  go  — my  fine  hat!"  cried  the  voice  of 
Cremona  delightedly. 

It  was  "  Cap'n  Cremona,"  beyond  a  doubt,  though 
he  iiad  a  pointed  beard  on  his  chin  and  his  earrings 
were  gone. 

Francis  turned  to  the  other  quick  as  the  thought 
that  had  leaped  into  his  brain,  and  grabbed  him  by  the 
muffling  cloak.    It  was  Dick  Dariza! 

The  friends  embraced  and  shook  hacds.  and  em- 


m 

mi 


f-^ 


168 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


fm 


braced  again.  Then  Drurie  turned  again  to  Cremona 
and  grasped  his  hands.  Then  he  pulled  the  bell  and 
ordered  candles  and  two  bottles  of  the  best  wine  in  the 
cellar.  He  tried  to  throw  off  his  anxiety  for  the  time. 
He  would  not  chill  the  satisfaction  of  the  reunion  by 
any  mention  just  yet  of  his  news  or  his  fears.  Neither 
could  be  done  before  morning,  anyway. 

During  supper,  and  for  an  hour  afterward,  the 
conversation  kept  to  the  recent  adventures  of  the 
three.  Dick  asked  tenderly  after  his  father  and  sister 
at  the  beginning  of  the  meal;  but  Francis  put  off  the 
hour  which  he  dreaded  by  telling  him  that  Isobel  had 
promised  to  be  his  wife. 

Dick  rejoiced,  end  took  it  for  granted  that  all  was 
well  with  his  family.  He  was  something  of  a  chatterer 
—  and  so  was  Cremona.  Between  them  they  informed 
Francis  fuUy  of  all  their  adventures  since  the  un- 
fortunate duel  Many  of  these  adventures  had  been 
matters  of  life  or  death,  but  they  told  them  all  light- 
heartcclly. 

They  had  suffered  hunger  and  cold  and  humiliation; 
but  there  was  no  bitterness  in  their  hearts.  They  had 
hidden  from  their  enemies  in  mean  places;  but  they 
had  bro:'-!it  none  of  the  meanness  back  to  the  open 
air  -.  ith  them.  Their  friendship  was  a  fine  thing.  Dick 
treated  Cremona,  tliough  he  a)v;ays  called  him  Pedro 


fere-;:,- 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  169 

in  private,  with  the  same  manner  of  comradeship  as 
he  treated  Drurie;  but  in  the  eyes  of  Cremona,  when- 
ever they  were  turned  on  Dick,  shone  that  light  of 
homage  that  often  glorifies  the  eyes  of  a  good  dog. 
For  all  that,  his  manner  was  now  that  of  the  loyal  and 
somewhat  boisterous  friend;  one  could  see  by  his  eyes 
that  he  was  still  the  loyal  servant. 

"We  have  been  in  the  saddle  all  day,"  said 
Dick.  "So  now  for  bed -and  in  the  morning - 
what  ?  "  ^ 

"  There  is  an  adventure  awaiting  both  of  you.  I 
shall  tdl  you  the  plans  cf  it  in  the  morning,"  replied 
Francis.  Ii.-  called  the  landlord  and  arranged  about 
rcoms  for  the  newcomers.  He  handed  his  letters  from 
Virginia  to  Dick.  "  I  want  you  to  take  these  to  your 
room  \.  Jth  you  and  read  them  before  you  go  to  sleep," 
he  said.  -  They  have  but  just  come  to  my  hand,"  he 
added. 

^  Dick  anc'  Cremona  retired,  the  table  was  cleared,  and 
Trancis  again  took  up  his  pacing  of  the  room.  Back 
"v^d  forth  he  marched,  as  if  on  the  narrow  quarter-deck 
of  the  Brave  Adventure. 

It  was  not  long  before  Nicholas  rapped  on  the  door 
and  entered.  "  I  have  been  to  every  inn  of  the  citv," 
he  sai.l.  "  and  no  sign  has  been  seen  of  a  gentleman 
by  the  name  of  Alcazardo." 


170 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  Very  good,  Nicholas.  We  start  to-morrow  morn- 
ing for  London,"  replied  Francis. 

"  Yes,  sir.    Saddles  or  carriage  ?  "  asked  the  servant. 

"Saddles,"  replied  the  commander.  "Are  thero 
any  horses  in  your  father's  stable  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  the  two  belonging  to  Captain  Cremona  and 
his  friend,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Then  engage  t\\o  more,"  said  Francis.  "  We  shaU 
start  at  sunrise." 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Richard  Dariza  came 
quietly  into  his  fricrfd's  room.  Francis  had  been 
sitting  motionless  in  his  chair  for  over  an  hour,  waiting. 
He  sprang  up  and  went  forward  to  meet  Darizi.  The 
other's  eyelids  were  red. 

"  It  was  quick  —  and  easy,"  said  Francis.  "  And 
now  he  is  happy." 

Dick  nodded.  "Yes -the  poor  old  man,"  he 
murmured. 

"As  for  Isobel  -why,  wc  must  look  for  her,"  said 
Francis.  "  They  have  not  been  in  Bristol.  I  tiiink. 
So  we  shall  go  to  London  -  tu  the  inn  al  which 
they  stayed  and  to  the  banking  house  at  which  the 
money  was.    We  should  get  .some  news  of  them  there." 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Dick  dully.  "Why 
didn't  Uncle  Hvnry  i)ut  a  bullet  through  the  rogue's 
head  ?  " 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  171 


"I  would  to  Heaven  he  had!"  cried  Francis  fer- 
vently. 

In  London  they  learned  that  the  Sefior  Josef  Al- 
cazardo,  uncle  and  guardian  to  Mistress  Isobel  Dariza, 
of  Virginia,  had  removed  funds  to  a  very  considerable 
amount  from  the  banking-house  of  Smith  &  Wedder. 
The  bankers  had  seen  nothing  of  hiii  after  that. 

At  the  inn  from  which  Isobcl  had  written  her  letters 
they  learned  that  the  Spanish  gentleman  and  the 
beautiful  young  lady  had  left  London  in  a  ship.  The 
gentleman  had  been  very  free  with  his  money.  The 
young  lady  was  dressed  like  a  princess.  The  landlord 
did  not  remember  the  name  of  the  vessel  on  which 
they  had  sailed,  but  one  of  the  ser\-ants  remembered 
having  heard  Alcazardo  mention  Spain  to  the  lady. 

Nicholas  was  sent  back  to  Bristol  to  look  after  his 
master's  belongings  ;i-id  interests  there.  The  other 
three,  after  a  da^'s  scarcli.  found  a  small  vessel  ready 
10  sail  southward.  For  ,i  matter  of  four  guineas  from 
each  of  the  gentlemen  the  master  was  willing  to  land 
them  on  the  Spanish  coast.  Fhey  paid  him  half  the 
money  on  the  word,  promised  the  balance  when  they 
should  be  safely  landed,  and  went  aboard. 

The  shipmaster  protested.  He  did  not  intend  to 
sail  until  a  late  hour  of  the  next  day.  Why  should  the 
gentlemen  not  return  to  their  inn  for  the  night?    But 


17g  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


he  gentlemen  were  too  eld  to  be  caught  by  any  suci) 
tncK  as  that.  "  I  think  this  is  your  tide,"  said  Drurie- 
and  sure  enough,  the  little  vessel  was  out  in  the  stream 
withm  the  hour. 

The  .^/ero-  Andrev;  was  a  lugger-rigged  craft  of 
about  five  tons  burden.  She  had  no  deck  amidships 
but  a  tmy  cabin  aft  and  a  still  smaller  one  forward 
Her  crew  consisted  of  two  men  besides  Purl  the" 
master.  They  were  hard-looking  customers,'  all 
throe.  Purl,  when  asked,  said  that  the  cargo  was  of 
spikes  and  other  ironware;  but,  upon  investigation  on 
the  part  of  Cremona,  it  was  found  to  be  of  gun- 
powder.  ^ 

Then  the  three  gentlemen  realized  that  they  should 
have  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  during  the"  voyage 
for  they  suspected  that  the  Merry  Andrnv  had  a' 
tr)st^  to  keep  some^^•!K■re  off  the  coast  of  France 
or  ^pam  with  .some  larger  craft  in  need  of  ammu- 
nilicn. 

run  said  that  they  were  to  occupy  the  after-cabin 
as  It  was  the  larger  cf  the  two;  but  the  passengers 
had  no  intention  of  giving  the  doubtful  mariners  any 
such  advantage  of  position.  With  two  men  m  front 
and  ar.cther  above  and  behind  them  at  the  tiller,  thcv 
would  be  al!  but  helpless  in  cose  of  treacher^•  So 
Cremona,,  who  icok  the  lead  in  this  matter  to  save  the 


Francis  Drurie  Returns  to  Bristol  173 


others  the  trouble,  said  that  he  and  his  friends  con- 
sidered the  forward  accommodations  the  more  com- 
fortable. 

•'  But  we  have  our  -beds  there  already,"  said 
Purl. 

"That  is  easily  changed,"  replied  Cremona  ^ith 
a  smile,  and  pulled  the  straw  beds  and  dirty  blankets 
from  the  little  den  in  the  bows  and  tossed  them 
aft. 

By  this  time  the  Merry  Andrew  was  out  of  the  river. 
Purl  swore  sa\agcly,  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if 
he  were  about  to  spring  upon  Cremona.  The  other's 
alert  and  undismayed  attitude,  however,  caused  him  to 
change  his  mind.  "  Have  it  your  own  way  —  an'  to 
blazes  with  ye."  he  said. 

As  night  approached,  the  kegs  of  powder,  which 
steed  close-racked  on  the  ballast,  were  covered  with 
tarpaulins.  The  evening  was  line  and  clear,  and  not 
immoderately  cold.  The  three  passengers  sat  along 
the  edge  of  the  little  forecastle  deck,  facing  aft.  Cre- 
mona rolled  up  a  few  leaves  of  tobacco  and  drew  his 
fiint  and  steel  from  his  pocket.  This  did  not  escape 
llie  quick  eye  cf  Purl,  who  v.as  at  the  tiller. 

"  Hold,  there!  "  he  shouted.    "  I'll  have  no  sparks 
flyin'  oboarcl  this  craft." 

Cremona  grinned  and  returned  both  tobacco  and  bo.x 


174 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


to  his  pocket.    "  I  think  you  scared  the  cargo  blow-up  " 
he  said. 

Purl  did  not  reply.     A  dangerous  silence  reigned 
fore  and  aft. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THREE  GENTLEMEN  FOLLOW  AN  ELUSIVE  QUEST 

The  three  passengers  were  thankful  that  the  crew 
of  the  lugger  did  not  outnumber  them.  As  it  was, 
they  felt  but  little  anxiety.  They  had  their  baggage' 
with  them  in  the  bows;  and  as  soon  as  dark  was  fallen 
they  lay  dowTi  to  rest,  with  their  six  feet  pointing  aft 
and  their  heads  on  their  saddle-bags.  A  nudge  of  the 
elbow,  a  whisper  or  two,  and  the  night's  campaign 
was  planned.  It  was  Dick's  first  watch,  Drurie's 
second,  and  Cremona's  third. 

Dick's  two  hours  passed  without  incident.  Then  he 
pinched  Francis,  told  him  that  Purl  and  his  men  were 
quiet,  and  instantly  closed  his  eyes.  Francis  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow,  wTiggled  aft  a  little  so  as  to  have 
his  feet  well  out  of  the  open  hatch  and  the  waist  of  the 
\essel  well  under  his  eye,  and  composed  himself  to 
v/atch. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  sky  was  generously 
powdered  with  stars.  A  four-knot  breeze  was  holding 
steady  over  the  taffraiL     Save  for  the  continual  soft 

175 


I 


17G 


A  Cavalier  of  Vi 


ririnia 


washing  and  slopping  of  the  water  along  tiioluggcrs 
sides  and  under  her  forefoot,  an,!  the  easy  stir  oFspar 
and  canvas,  there  was  not  a  sound.  Under  the  boom 
of  the  foresail  the  watcher  could  sc-  the  waist  and  rails 
of  the  little  craft  as  far  aft  as  the  mainmast;  but 
beyond  that  he  could  not  sec,  for  the  main  toom 
was  lowered  almost  to  the  cargo.  He  wondered  what 
the  three  fellows  aft  of  the  mainsail  Avere  doing. 

Drurie  had  watched  for  an  hour  or  more,  when  his 
vigilance  was  rewarded  at  last  by  the  sight  of  a  head 
under  the  boom  of  the  mainsail.  Shoulders  followed, 
and  in  a  moment  a  man  was  crawling  forward  over 
the  tarpaulins,  and  a  second  was  wriggling  under  the 
boom. 

Drurie  sat  upright  and  advanced  two  pistols  throu'^h 
the  hatch.  By  this  time  the  second  man  was  on  the 
cargo,  and  Purl  himself  was  clawing  his  wav  beneath 
the  boom.    It  was  evident  thai  the  tiller  v.as  lashed. 

'■  Belay  that,"  commanded  Drurie  in  a  low  voice. 
The  two  fellows  who  were  clear  of  the  bcom  lav  still" 
as  death;  but  Master  Purl,  only  half  in  sight,  squirmed 
sideways  a  little  and  raised  his  right  hand. 

One  of  Druric's  i)istols  banged,  and  a  scream  of  rage 
and  pain  rang  high  above  the  peaceful  murmurings 
of  wind  and  sea. 

For  a  moment  all  was  confusion  -   and  then  silence 


An  Elusive  Quest 


177 


again. 


The  members  of  the  crew  and  the  wounded 
:naster  lay  in  a  row,  bound  hand  and  foot. 

Drurie's  bullet  had  passed  through  Purl's  shoulder, 
clear  of  the  bone.  Drurie  washed  the  wound  and 
bandaged  it  with  one  of  the  fellow's  own  shirts,  after 
v.hich  he  took  the  tiller  and  adnsed  his  friends  to 
return  to  their  blankets. 

The  three  passengers  enjoyed  the  light  work  of 
sailing  and  steering  the  Merry  Andrew.  The  wind 
held  throughout  the  next  day,  and  the  lugger  proved 
herself  a  fast  and  handy  craft.  Cremona  cooked  the 
meals  in  a  charcoal  stove  which  he  had  moved  from 
the  after-cabin  to  the  forecastle  deck.  The  messes 
which  he  managed  to  concoct  from  the  rough  and 
scanty  stores  tasted  all  the  better  for  the  risk  of  the 
cooking. 

It  was  a  thrilling  sight  to  see  Cremona  at  work 
with  spoon  and  pan,  Francis  and  Dick  on  guard  along 
the  forward  edge  of  the  tarpaulins,  one  of  the  crew 
clinging  heedlessly  to  the  tiller,  pressed  into  service 
for  the  time,  and  the  other  two  lying  flat  atop  that 
orderly  array  of  powder-kegs,  their  faces  bloodless 
and  their  eyes  fairly  twirling  with  terror. 

Of  course  there  was  little  danger  of  a  spark  reaching 
the  powder,  for  the  gentlemen  took  every  precaution 
against  such   a  sudden   and   useless  termination    of 


mtmm 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

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2.5 

12.2 

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178  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


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their  careers;  but  Purl  and  his  men  suffered  a  foretaste 
of  the  torments  of  the  inferno. 

The  day  and  the  night  were  without  accident  or 
any  incident  to  disturb  the  voyage;  but  on  the  morning 
of  the  third  day  out  of  London,  while  the  Merry  Andrew 
was  bowling  along  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the 
coast,  things  began  to  brisk  up  a  little. 

The  men  aboard  the  lugger  had  been  aware  for 
some  time  of  a  large  schooner  off  their  port  beam,  about 
five  miles  to  seaward,  headed  north  under  easy  canvas. 
They  paid  little  attention  to  her  until,  all  of  a  sudden, 
they  saw  her  long  hull  narrow  to  a  speck  on  the  glisten- 
ing sea  and  her  white  sails  climb  aloft.  She  had  swung 
at  right  angles  to  her  course.  She  was  heading  land- 
ward now,  with  a  fair  wind,  under  all  sail. 

What  did  it  mean?  The  passengers  of  the  lugger 
could  not  say  at  first,  and  felt  both  puzzled  and  uneasy. 
They  looked  toward  the  l?-d  and  saw  neither  town  nor 
harbour  — only  desolate  little  coves,  lilac-hued  cliffs, 
and  wooded  hilltops  behind. 

"  What  d'ye  make  of  it  ?  "  asked  Francis, 

Dick  and  Cremona  shook  their  heads  and  gazed 
seaward  again,  and  agam  shoreward.  Cremona  had  a 
gleam  of  inner  light. 

"  I  think  it  may  be  so,"  he  said,  and  stepped  over 
to  where  Purl  lay  bound.     "  That  your  ship  for  this 


An  Elusive  Quest 


179 


powder,"  he  said.  "Well,  what  happen  to  us?  We 
let  you  free,  you  say  good  word  for  us?  " 

The  strain  of  watching  the  big  fellow  cook  the  meals 
so  near  the  powder-casks  had  evidently  dulled  the 
dishonest  mariner's  mind. 

"  I'll  let  bygones  be  bygones,"  he  said.  "  Cast 
off  these  lines  an'  I'll  treat  ye  right." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Cremona  with  a  bow.  "  That 
what  I  think.    See,  your  friend  fly  signal." 

Francis  and  Dick  congratulated  Cremona  on  his 
sharp  wits. 

"  You  are  in  commmd  of  this  craft,  so  give  us  your 
orders,"  said  Frcncis, 

Cremona  was  delighted.  He  freed  the  least  offensive 
of  the  lugger's  crew.  "  You  drop  some  kegs  over- 
board," he  said.  Purl  roared  blood  and  thunder  at 
that.  "  Very  good,"  said  Cremona.  He  cast  Purl 
loose.  "  Now,  you  help,"  he  sair';  "  and  you,  Cap'n 
Drurie,  stand  ready  with  a  pistol;  and  you,  Master 
St.  George "  —  the  name  they  had  decided  to  call 
Dick  for  the  present  —  "  stand  by  the  sheets."  He 
took  the  tiller  and  let  the  lugger's  head  fall  off  a  point 
or  to. 


The  tall  schooner 
swaying  a  little  under  her  high,  broad 


red  flags  flew  at  her  tops  —  the 


was  tearing  dowTi  upon  them, 

pinions.    Two 

prearranged  signals, 


180 


A  Cavali'  i  of  Virginia 


II 


no   doubt,   fcr   the   lugger  to  lay-to  or  sail  to  meet 
her. 

The  first  keg  of  powder  went  over  the  Merry  Andrew's 
rail  with  a  great  splash.  Purl  had  intentionally  tipped 
it  over  the  windward  side,  in  open  sight  of  the  schooner; 
and  the  commander  of  the  schooner  had  seen  it,  and 
his  suspicions  of  something  wrong  became  a  certainty. 
Cremona  only  smiled,  and  again  let  the  Merry 
Andrew  fall  away  a  little. 

Overboard  went  the  fat  kegs  — splash-splash — 
into  the  dancing  waves.  Another  flag  came  into  sight 
against  the  towering  white  cf  the  schooner's  sails.  A 
great  gun  sent  a  dull  boom  of  warning  across  the 
glittering  sea. 

"  Bah!  "  exclaimed  Cremona. 
Purl  swore  lustily  as  he  stooped  to  his  work,  and  shot 
a  desperate  glance  at  Drurie  and  the  pistol.  Drurie 
and  Dick  laughed  a  little  with  the  excitement  of  the 
game.  They  could  see  that  Cremona  was  bound  to 
play  it  for  all  it  was  worth  —  that  he  had  no  intention 
of  showing  his  heels  until  he  had  to. 

The  tall  schooner  grew  in  their  sight  as  if  by  magic, 
rolling  her  slender  hull,  sweeping  her  tops  in  free 
curves  against  the  blue  sky,  heaping  the  silver  foam 
like  a  snowdrift  under  her  racing  foot.    A  white  cloud 

and  thump  came   he 


sprang 


under  her  jibs 


An  Elusive  Quest 


181 


report  of  her  bow-chaser,  A  sharp  little  tongue  of 
torn  water  leaped  up  and  vanished  on  top  of  a  wave 
midway  the  two  vessels. 

By  this  time  the  lugger  was  just  light  enough  to  sail 
at  her  best  speed.  Cremona  held  her  on  a  gradual 
shoreward  slant.  Purl  and  the  fellow  who  had  been 
working  on  the  cargo  were  bound  again.  Drurie 
manned  the  foresheet  and  Dick  the  main.  Cremona 
stood  on  the  tiny  poop  with  the  head  of  the  tiller  under 
his  right  arm,  coolly  puffing  at  a  roll  of  tobacco-leaf. 

The  schooner  closed  in  on  them  with  amazing  speed, 
faring  from  a  gun  in  her  bows  as  fast  as  it  could  be  loaded 
and  trained.  At  last  a  round-shot  struck  the  water 
within  twenty  yards  of  the  lugger.  Cremona  tossed 
his  burning  tobacco  into  the  sea. 

"  Stand  by  to  trim  her! "  he  cried,  and  pulled  her 
over  fair  before  the  piping  breeze. 

Francis  and  Dick  hauled  on  the  sheets  and  made  fast, 
and  the  Merry  Andrew  raced  shoreward  as  if  her  heart 
were  in  her  heels. 

The  lugger  was  beached  in  a  desolate  little  cove,  on 
shehing  rocks  that  split  her  stout  timbers.  The  three 
travellers  carried  Purl  and  his  two  fellows  ashore  and 
placed  them,  still  bound,  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
water.  Then  they  got  their  saddle-bags  and  started 
up  the  steep  hillside  that  backed  upon  the  cove.    When 


182 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


they  were  half-way  up,  the  schooner's  long-boat  pulled 
into  the  cove,  and  muske^ -shots  and  shouts  of  rage 
filled  the  air.  Bullets  pattering  on  the  rocks  around 
them  renewcrl  the  flagging  energies  of  the  three  gentle- 
men. Each  reflected  as  he  scrambled  aloft,  dragging 
his  heavy  bag,  on  the  various  ways  of  dving  offered 
by  the  world;  and  c.:  h  disliked  the  thought  of  ending 
his  career  in  this  desolate  cove.  Death  bv  a  musket- 
ball  is  all  very  well;  but  no  gentleman  likc's  to  be  shot 
in  the  back  while  scrambling  up  a  hill. 

"We  shaved  it  just  about  a  minute  too  short," 
gasped  Dick. 

The  long-boat  was  now  in  the  still  waters  of  the 
cove,  and  the  rowers  rested  on  their  oars  so  as  to  give 
the  marksmen  a  better  chance  at  the  fugitives  on  the 
hillside.     Out  rang  another  scattering  volley. 

Dick  stumbled,- and  let  his  saddle-bag  slip  from  his 
grasp.  By  now  they  were  within  a  few  vards  of  the 
brow  of  the  hill.  Dick  got  to  his  feet  and  fell  again. 
A  mocking  shout  came  up  from  the  boat.  Cremona 
sprang  to  Dick's  side  and  picked  him  up  as  if  he  were 
a  child. 

"  Only  in  the  leg,"  said  Dick,  smiling  painfully. 

Cremona  dr.shed  up  and  over  the  hilltop.  Drurie 
recovered  the  discarded  saddle-bag,  and  followed  at 
his  best  speed. 


li'^i- 


An  Elusive  Quest 


183 


Before  them  lay  a  bleak  moor  with  timbered  hills 
at  the  back  of  it,  and  the  roofs  of  a  village  in  the  middle 
distance.  They  continued  to  run  for  several  minutes 
over  the  rough  hummocks  of  the  moor,  Francis  keeping 
a  sharp  watch  over  his  shoulder.  Three  or  four  of  the 
boat's  crew  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  stared  after 
them  with  angry  tries  and  furious  gestures;  but  they 
did  not  offer  to  follow  into  the  open. 

"  Easy,"  pulled  Francis.  "  There  is  no  need  of 
running  any  farther,  for  they  don't  want  to  follow  us 
to  that  village." 

They  walked  forward  for  another  hundred  yards  or 
so,  and  then  halted  on  the  top  of  a  low  mound  and 
examined  Dick's  wound.  The  bullet,  evidently  a  spent 
one,  had  entered  the  muscles  of  the  thigh  to  a  depth 
of  an  inch  or  two.  They  bound  it;  and  Cremona 
again  took  Dick  in  his  arms,  and  they  proceeded. 

'  I  should  have  got  that  ball  in  return  for  nicking 
Purl,"  said  Francis. 

"  No,  it  was  meant  for  me,"  replied  Dick.  "  I 
stood  over  him  and  made  him  work  at  the  cargo  with 
his  leg  in  a  bandage." 

"  I  think  it  should  hit  you  in  the  same  place,  then, 
and  that  no  hurt,"  said  Cremona  gravely. 

By  the  fact  that  the  men  from  the  schooner  had  not 
followed  them  from  the  cove,  they  knew  that   the 


I 

I 

m 


m..  ^4&ma^ 


T 


184 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


■    I 


schooner  was  not  in  an  honest  way  of  trade.  She  was 
a  pirate,  undoubtedly. 

"  I  wish  we  had  been  aboard  my  own  ship/'  said 
Francis.  "  I'd  give  a  hundred  '  ounds  for  a  chance  to 
burn  powder  with  one  of  thosp  .ry.  Jove,  I'd  rather 
sink  a  pirate  than  a  Frenchr  ^a,  I  do  believe." 

The  others  were  of  the  same  way  of  thinking.  Little 
they  knew  that  the  future  held  a  chance  for  them  at  that 
same  tall  schooner  —  and,  had  they  known  the  result 
of  that  chance,  they  might  have  changed  their  wish. 

At  the  village  they  found  a  quiet  tavern,  and  a  man 
who  professed  to  a  knowledge  of  surgery.  Cremona, 
who  could  talk  sailor's  Spanish,  explained  their  plight 
with  an  amazing  story. 

Then  the  surgeon  extracted  the  bullet  from  Dick's 
thigh.  It  had  not  touched  the  bone;  and  they  were 
thankful  for  that.  Dick  was  put  to  bed,  faint  from 
loss  of  blood  and  the  pain  of  the  operation.  Francis 
sat  by  his  side  while  Cremona  went  down-stairs  and 
questioned  the  tavern-keeper.  He  learned  that  they 
were  within  thirty  miles  of  Lisbon,  m  Portugal. 

Dick's  wound  kept  the  three  in  that  insignificant 
village  for  three  weary  weeks.  As  soon  as  he  was  fit 
to  move,  they  went  to  Lisbon  by  carriage;  and  from 
there  they  travelled  into  Spam,  and  to  the  gay  city  of 
Madrid. 


An  Elusive  Quest 


185 


Dick  wasinot  yet  able  to  walk;  so  he  kept  to  his 
room  while  Francis  and  Cremona  hunted  through  the 
city  for  information  concerning  the  Senor  Josef  Alca- 
zardo.  They  learned  nil  that  Madrid  had  to  teach 
them  on  that  subject  within  sLx  hours  of  their  arrival. 
This  was  the  way  of  it : 

They  were  walking  along  a  fine  street,  dressed  as 
well  as  their  limited  wardrobes  would  allow,  and 
puzzled  as  to  how  and  of  whom  to  make  inquiries, 
when  a  very  gaily  attired  old  gentleman  dropped  his 
snuff-box  almost  under  Drurie's  feet.  He  uttered  a 
shrill  little  cry  of  distress;  for  it  was  a  valuable  old 
box. 

Quick  as  a  wink,  a  ragged  fellow  in  the  crowd  had 
snatched  up  the  box  and  started  to  run  —  and,  even 
.'  er  than  winking,  Francis  had  him  by  the  collar, 
t.  pulled  the  box  from  his  hand,  let  him  go,  turned 
to  the  old  gentleman  with  a  bow  and  restored  his 
treasure  to  him. 

The  old  gentleman  was  almost  moved  to  tears  with 
gratitude.  He  embraced  both  Franc's  and  Cremona, 
and  babbled  his  thanks. 

"  Jkly  friend  does  not  understand  the  beautiful 
Spanish  language,"  said  Cremona,  "  but  I  can  assure 
you,  senor,  that  he  is  glad  to  have  been  able  to  sep'e 
you." 


Ill 


i 


186  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


\ 


' 


iici 


The  old  gentleman  told  Cremona  his  name.  As  it 
was  nine  words  long,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  our 
story,  I  will  not  record  it. 

Cremona  bowed  in  his  best  style;  and  Francis 
bowed.  "  We  are  English  gentlemen,"  said  Cremona. 
"  My  friend  is  the  Captain  Francis  Drurie,  and  I  am 
the  Captain  Cremona  —  your  humble  ser\ants,  seiior." 

"  You  must  honour  me  with  your  company  over  a 
bottle  of  wine.  We  can  get  very  good  wine  just  across 
the  square,"  said  the  Spani.  :d. 

After  they  had  raised  their  glasses  to  their  mutual 
well-being,  Cremona  asked:  "  Can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing of  the  Seiior  Josef  Alcazardo  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  them  both  very  sharply. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  can  tell  you  that  he  is  a 
rascal  and  a  cheat." 

"  We  have  suspected  as  much;  but  can  you  tell  us 
where  he  is  to  be  found  ?  "  returned  Cremona. 

"  That  I  cannot,"  answered  the  old  gentleman. 
"  To  my  knowledge,  he  has  not  been  seen  in  Madrid 
for  the  last  six  years.  I  trust  —  I  trust,  gentlemen,  that 
you  are  not  friends  of  his." 

"  Far  from  it." 

"Ah!   J  ^sk  no  questions." 

Cremona,  knowing  what  that  meant,  satisfied  the 
>old  gentleman's  curiosity  with  a  cock-and-bull  story. 


An  Elusive  Quest 


187 


In  return,  the  amiable  Spaniard  narrated  a  number  of 
unsavoury  incidents  of  Alcazardo's  career  in  Madrid, 
riiey  were  not  criminal,  however,  and  most  had  to  do 
with  cheating  at  play  and  such  ill-bred  peculiarities. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


!■ 


SOMETHING  HEARD  OF  ALCA2ARDO 

Francis  and  Dick  were  at  a  complete  loss  to  knbw 
where  they  could  search  next.  They  had  expected  great 
things  of  Madrid. 

Cremona  came  to  their  help  by  suggesting  Cadiz, 
a  port  he  had  visited  several  times  in  his  voyagings  as 
a  common  sailor.  He  held  that  a  man  with  a  bad 
name  is  more  likely  to  be  found  on  or  near  the  sea  than 
in  an  inland  district.  His  way  of  escape  is  always 
ready  to  his  hand;  and,  the  seas  being  the  great  high- 
ways 01  the  world,  he  can  watch  for  his  enemies  and, 
if  need  be,  sail  out  as  they  sail  in. 

"  But  we,  you  understand,  come  at  him  from  the 
inside.  He  look  out  his  window  at  the  ships  — we 
walk  in  his  back  door,"  he  concluded. 

Dick's  opinion  was  that,  if  he  were  hiding  an\-where 
in  Spain,  it  wculd  prove  to  be  in  some  rural  locality, 
away  from  the  gossip  and  traffic  of  the  cities. 

Francis  was  also  of  this  way  of  thinking;  but  he 
agreed  with  Cremona  that  the  retreat  was  more  likely 

188 


af 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      189 

to  be  near  the  coast  than  inland.    So  they  decided  to 
go  to  Cadiz. 

It  was  a  long  journey  and  a  dangcrou  <re,  from  Ma- 
drid 10  Cadiz.  For  the  sake  of  Dick's  !  ^;,  it  was  made 
in  short  stages,  now  in  a  carriage,  now  in  a  country  cart, 
again  astride  horses,  mules,  or  even  donkeys.  Some- 
times they  hired  fi'  v  or  six  villagers  to  accompany  them 
through  the  districts  frequented  by  robbers,  threw  out 
scouts  and  flanking  parties,  and  advanced  in  the  best 
military  manner.  Upon  reaching  Cadiz  they  went 
to  a  quiet  house  and  informed  the  landlord  that 
they  were  English  merchants  interested  in  Spanish 
wines. 

•'  We  once  purchased  a  shipment  from  a  Seflor 
Josef  Alcazardo,"  said  Cremona.  "  It  was  gf  '  wine. 
Can  you  tell  me  where  the  gentlemar  is  nc  to  be 
found?" 

The  innkeeper  said  that  he  knew  j/hing  of  the 
Seiior  Alcazardo,  but  that  ,■  ■  .vould  make  inquiries 
among  his  patrons.  Cremona  expressed  his  gratitude, 
and  proved  it  with  a  silver  coin;  then,  leaving  Dick  to 
look  after  his  leg  and  the  bags,  the  others  hired  horses 
and  rode  out  of  the  city  to  take  a  look  at  the  surround- 
ing country.  They  were  cautious  in  the  manner  of 
making  their  inquiries,  fearing  that  their  quarry  might 
get  wind  of  them  and  take  fright.    It  was  always 


ir?T 


190 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ml 


Cremona  who  did  the  talking.  He  had  a  way  of 
stopping  people  on  the  road  with  a  polite  and  friendly 
salutation.  "  This  is  a  fine  piece  of  country,"  he  would 
say.  He  would  ask  about  last  season's  crops,  and  so 
on;  and  then,  casually,  "I  once  met  a  gentleman 
named  Josef  Alcazardo,  who  was  from  hereabouts," 
he  would  say.  "  Perhaps  you  know  him  ?  "  They  spent 
a  day  ai  this  sort  of  thing  without  resuUs. 

On  the  evening  of  their  first  day  m  Cadiz,  the  inn- 
keeper came  to  the  three  travellers  with  word  that  there 
was  an  old  fellow  below  who  wanted  to  speak  with 
them. 

"  He  will  not  say  if  he  knows  anything  or  hot  of 
the  Senor  Alcazardo,  but  he  is  anxious  to  speak  with 
the  gentlemen  who  are  looking  for  the  senor,"  said 
the  innkeeper. 

"  Show  him  up,"  said  Cremona. 

It  was  old  Juan  who  entered  the  room,  cap  m  hand, 
his  thin  cheeks  slightly  flushed  by  the  wine  he  had 
imbibed  below.  He  had  guessed,  at  the  first  mention 
of  the  three  English  merchants  interested  in  wine, 
who  wanted  to  know  the  whereabouts  of  his  master, 
that  their  visit  to  Cadiz  had  to  do  with  the  beautiful 
young  lady.  He  was  not  so  anxious  to  answer  questions 
as  to  ask  them.  Belonging  to  a  district  in  which  the 
family  of  Alcazardo  was  unknown,  and  never  havmg 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      191 

heard  of  the  marriage  of  one  of  his  master's  brothers 
with  an  English  lady,  the  beautiful  ward  had  puzzled 
him  sorely. 

Cremona  measured  the  old  man  at  a  glance.  He 
waved  him  to  a  seat,  and  handed  him  a  glass  of  wine 
that  was  very  superior  to  the  vintage  which  the  fellow 
had  been  drinking  in  the  public  room  below. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  the  Sencr  Josef 
Alcazardo?"  he  asked,  in  his  fluent  but  uncouth 
Spanish. 

Juan  looked  exceedingly  crafty.  "  That's  as  may 
be,  senor.    What  do  you  want  to  know  of  my  master?  " 

"  Ho,  ho!  So  he  is  your  master,  is  he?  "  cried  Cre- 
mona. 

The  old  fellow's  jaw  dropped  dismally.  He  had 
not  meant  to  let  that  pop  out  so  soon.  He  had  meant 
to  draw  pay  for  that  bit  of  information,  Cremona 
saw  his  dismay  and  chagijn,  and  laughed  boisterously. 
Dick,  who  had  learned  a  little  Spanish  in  his  childhood, 
laughed,  too,  and  told  the  good  news  and  the  joke  to 
Francis. 

Hope  sprang  high  in  their  hearts;  and  Cremona 
saw  that  they  were  about  to  heap  questions,  in  two 
languages,  upon  the  foolish  old  man.  He  signalled  to 
them  with  his  hand  to  keep  quiet. 

*'  We  have  business  with  your  master,"  he  said. 


1 


19S 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Ni 


mt 


i  > 


"  He  will  be  very  glad  to  see  us,  for  we  are  relatives 
of  the  young  lady,  his  niece." 

"  Of  the  senorita?  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  English 
relatives  of  the  Senorita  Isobel  ?  Ah,  that  is  interesting. 
I  can  see,  at  a  glance,  that  the  two  younger  gentlemen 
are  English;  but  not  you,  senor.  Still,  let  that  pass. 
I  have  wondered  about  the  beautiful  young  lady's 
relatives.  And  is  it  true,  senor,  that  the  Senor  Al- 
cazardo  is  her  uncle?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  And  he  is  her  guardian,  as  well," 
replied  Cremona.  "  But  these  gentlemen  are  her  near 
relatives,  and  v/e  have  come  a  long  way  to  visit  your 
master  and  the  young  lady." 

"  Well,  well,  to  think  of  it  —  and  the  two  of  them  gone 
away  these  months  back,"  said  Juan. 

"What  d'ye  say?     Where  have  they  gone  to?" 
cried   Dick,  limping  forward  and  clutching  the  old 
fellow's  shoulder. 
Juan  shrank  back. 

"  Leave  him  to  me.  The  man  is  honest  enough, 
but  a  bit  of  a  fool,"  said  Cremona,  in  English.  Then, 
to  Juan,  "  The  English  gentleman  is  of  a  quick  temper, 
but  you  must  not  mind  him,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  when 
your  master  and  the  lady  went  away,  and  where  they  ' 
went  to.  Here  is  a  little  piece  •(  the  right  colour  that 
you  may  be  able  to  make  some  use  of."    He  passed  a 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      193 


gold  coin  into  the  old  fellow's  hand.  "  We  are  anxious 
to  know  how  it  is  that  the  senor  went  away  without 
taking  his  invaluable  servant  along  with  him." 

Juan  told  every  word  that  he  knew  and  a  great  deal 
that  he  only  suspected.  He  had  been  about  five  years 
in  Alcazardo's  employ,  and  had  come,  ten  years 
before,  from  a  distant  part  of  Spain.  He  was  the  care- 
taker of  the  big  house  which  Alcazardo  owned,  and  had 
never  seen  very  much  of  his  employer.  The  house  was 
usually  empty;  and  even  when  he  was  there  Alcazardo 
made  no  display  and  received  but  few  visitors.  He 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  city  of  Cadiz  or  with  his 
neighbours,  rich  or  poor.  In  fact,  admitted  Juan,  it 
was  as  much  as  his  position  was  worth  to  mention  the 
senor^s  name. 

He  had  an  idea  that  the  senor  was  a  great  man  in 
Madrid,  and  there  spent  all  his  time  and  money. 
Well,  he'd  not  set  eyes  on  his  master  for  a  matter  of  two 
years,  when,  one  fine  day,  he  drove  up  in  a  carriage 
with  the  beautiful  young  lady  beside  him.  The  young 
lady  had  found  the  house  very  dull.  His  master  had 
engaged  two  more  servants  immediately — one  of 
them  a  maid  for  the  senorita  —  and  they  had  lived  on 
the  fat  of  the  land. 

Yes,  the  sciior  treated  the  young  lady  like  a  queen. 
And  so  en  and  so  on.    The  old  man  forgot  nt;thing.    He 


?.  . 


d 


h 


P 


194 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


told  of  the  visits  of  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  of 
Alcazardo's  departure  by  night,  of  the  note  for  Isobel, 
and  of  her  sudden  departure.  He  explained  that  his 
granddaughter,  the  maid,  had  gone  with  her  mistress. 

"  And  where  did  they  go  ?  And  how  did  they  go  ?  " 
asked  Cremona,  after  he  had  translated  everything  for 
Francis. 

Juan  begged  permission  to  replenish  his  glass.  He 
took  a  slow  sip  or  two  with  the  air  of  a  man  about  to 
disclose  the  result  of  some  very  deep  thinking. 

"  In  the  letter  to  the  senorita,"  he  said,  "  the  seiior 
wrote  that  the-  were  bound  for  England.  But  I  do 
not  think  that  was  the  truth,  for  there  are  many  fine 
vessels  in  the  city  that  sail  frequently  to  England  — 
and  yet  the  senor  did  not  sail  from  Cadiz,  but  from  a 
little  cove  miles  away  from  here,  in  a  wild  country.  I 
discovered  this  by  much  toil  and  wit,  for  the  senor 
did  not  confide  in  me.  I  found  the  man  who  had 
driven  the  carriage,  on  both  occasions;  and  from  him 
learned  that  the  senor,  the  senorita,  and  Maria  had 
been  rowed  away  from  the  shore  in  a  small  boat  and 
had  been  taken  aboard  a  schooner. 

"  At  first  I  thought  that  the  senor  had  gone  away 
in  this  secret  manner  simply  to  give  the  slip  to  people 
who  might  be  pressing  him  for  money;  but  later,  after 
much  reflection,  I  decided  that  it  was  not  for  lack  of 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo     195 


money  that  my  master  practised  such  a  sly  way  of  life 
in  general.  So  I  went  again  to  the  man  who  had 
driven  the  carriage;  and  from  him  I  learned,  after 
paying  money  I  could  ill  afford,  that  the  man  with  the 
black  beard  and  the  senor  were  partners  in  a  queer 
business  that  sounded  to  him  like  smuggling — or 
worse. 

"  He  had  overheard  a  few  words  to  put  this  idea 
in  his  head.  Also  he  had  heard  the  senor  tell  the  man 
with  the  black  beard  that,  though  he  was  not  going  to 
England,  yet  he  intended  to  live  a  quiet  life  from  now 
on  and  would,  some  day,  settle  down  in  one  of  the 
English  colonics  as  a  very  proper  old  gentleman.  So 
you  may  be  sure  that  the  senor  and  the  young  lady  have 
not  gone  to  England." 

The  three  gentlemen  were  greatly  relieved  in  their 
minds  by  the  information  obtained  from  Juan.  Though 
it  made  their  quest  seem  all  the  more  hopeless,  yet  it 
led  them  to  believe  that  Isobcl  was  no*^  in  immediate 
danger,  in  whatever  part  of  the  »vorld  she  might  be. 

Alcazardo  had  stolen  her  money;  but,  evidently,  he 
was  keeping  up  the  play  of  being  her  affectionate  uncle. 
Perhaps;  he  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  tliey  had  feared. 
Perhaps  he  was  only  a  thief  and  a  liar,  after  all.  It 
might  be  t!iat  he  v/as  even  planning  to  return  to  Vir- 
ginia, fcrtificd  againot  Fairv/ood  by  Isobel's  trust  and 


j  :    I 


196 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ready  to  meet  the  charge  of  theft  with  a  pack  of  plau- 
sible lies. 

Drurie  and  Cremona  accompanied  old  Juan  back 
to  Alcazardo's  house  and  heard  the  same  story  from 
the  Ups  of  his  daughter,  who  had  been  the  cook  during 
Isobel's  brief  stay  in  the  place.  The  old  man  and  his 
daughter,  and  the  daughter's  husband  and  children, 
occupied  the  servants'  quarters  of  the  house,  rent  free. 

The  woman  spoke  highly  of  Alcazardo.  Indeed,  in 
that  part  of  the  world  he  had  never  shown  his  cloven 
hoof. 

"The  sciior  has  a  kind  heart,"  said  the  woman, 
"  and  his  manners  are  beautiful.  He  v  as  like  a  father 
to  the  scnoriia." 

They  gave  old  Juan  a  package  of  blank  paper 
addressed  to  a  firm  of  merchants  in  Bristol,  and  another 
addressed  to  a  firm  in  London;  and  these  he  was  to 
despatch  by  the  earliest  opportunity  after  seeing  or 
hearing  anything  more  of  his  master's  movements. 
Then  th.7  paid  him  well  for  his  information  and  re- 
turned to  their  inn. 

It  was  April  when  Francis  and  Dick  and  Cremona 
got  back  to  Bristol.  There  they  found  Mr.  Henry 
Fairwood,  of  Fairwood  Manor,  Virginia,  waiting  for 
them. 

Fairwood  had  come  to  England  to  learn  what  he 


Something  Heard  of  Alcazardo      197 


could  about  Alcazardo,  end  had  already  heard  what 
the  London  bankers  had  to  tell.  Arriving  in  Bristol, 
he  had  learned  from  Nicholas  that  Francis  and  two 
friends  had  gone  to  London  and  from  there  to  Spain; 
and  so  he  had  settled  himself  comfortably  to  await 
their  return. 

After  recovering  from  the  meeting  with  Dick,  he 
heard  the  story  of  their  quest. 

"  I'll  go  to  that  place,"  he  swore,  "  and  I'll  live  in 
that  house  —  and  there  I'll  be  if  that  rascal  ever  comes 
home.  Caesar,  he'll  find  me  at  headquarters;  and  if 
he  won't  give  me  the  girl  quietly,  I'll  put  a  bullet  in 
his  heart!" 


i 


l^ii 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTURE  A  GOOD  FIGHTER 

Mr.  Fairwood  did  not  start  for  Spain  until  after 
the  sailing  of  the  Brave  Adventure  for  Hudson  Bay 
Francis  was  still  in  command  of  the  ship;  for  Fairwood 
had  urged  him  not  to  give  up  his  work.  He  had  pointed 
out  that  nothing  could  be  done  beyond  keeping  a  sharp 
eye  on  the  house  near  Cadiz -and  that  was  what  he 
himself  meant  to  do. 

"  If  he  so  much  as  shows  his  nose  I'll  be  on  him  " 
said  the  old  man.  "  Go  and  do  your  work,  lad,  and 
trust  to  fate  -  aye,  and  to  your  Uncle  Henry  'Twill 
all  come  nVht,  I  tell  jou.  The  man  hasn't  courage 
enough  to  do  more  than  steal  and  lie  and  make  a 
monkey  of  himself.  You'll  find  that  I  have  the  girl 
safe  and  sound  when  you  get  back,  never  fear  " 

So  Francis  sailed  away  on  the  Brave  Adventure,  and 
Mr  Fairwood  set  out  next  day  for  Spain,  with  hooe 
and  courage  in  his  heart,  and  the  two  trusty  servants 
he  had  brought  with  him  all  the  way  from  Vir- 
ginia. 


A  Good  Fighter 


199 


With  Captain  Francis  Drurie  sailed  tv;o  gentlemen 
adventurers  who  had  not  made  the  first  vovaqe  — 
Mr,  St.  George  and  Captain  Cremona.  Both  these 
gentlemen  had  wanted  to  help  Mr.  Fairwccd  in  his 
p  osive  game  in  Spain;  but  they  had  been  told  to  go 
about  their  business  like  men.  So  they  had  gone, 
feeling  deep  in  their  hearts  that  there  was  as  much 
likelihood  of  finding  Alcazardo  on  the  sea  as  in 
Spain. 

The  master  of  the  Brave  Adventure  was  a  middle- 
aged  mariner  named  Benjamin  Danvers.  He  was  a 
brave,  capable  fellow  and  a  great  admirer  and  firm 
friend  of  Drurie's.  Under  him  were  tv,-o  mates,  a 
boatsv.-ain,  and  twelve  sailors.  Under  Drurie's  con- 
trol were  his  lieutenant,  young  Lawrence  Prowse,  two 
adventurers  besides  Dick  and  Cremona,  Duff  and 
Tizard  by  name,  Jilaster-gurncrs  Mann  and  Tyler, 
four  gunners'  mates  and  a  master-armcurcr. 

Drurie  was  in  command  of  the  ship;  bv.t  Danvers 
was  supreme  as  sailing-master.  It  v;as  for  Drurie 
to  name  the  course,  but  for  the  master  to  sail  it.  It 
v;as  not  in  the  commander's  pro\incc  to  give  orders 
to,  or  in  any  way  interfere  with,  the  sailers  at  their 
work;  but  the  moment  the  guns  were  manned  the 
master,  his  mates,  and  his  mariners  came  under 
Drune's  command   in   everything.     This  system  of 


>t'0 


tl'y 


200 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


marine  administration  caUed  for  tact  and  fairminded- 
ncss  on  the  part  of  the  commander  and  the  master, 
and,  indeed,  en  the  part  of  all  the  officers. 

The  Brave  Adventure  soon  had  the  rest  of  the  little 
fleet  hull-down  astern.  Shortly  before  sunset,  Drurie 
ascended  to  the  high  poop-deck,  with  the  master  at 
his  right  hand,  Mr.  Prowse  at  his  left,  and  the  gentle- 
men and  the  two  mates  behind  him.  The  boatswain 
piped  both  watches  on  deck  and  paraded  them  in  the 
waist  of  the  ship. 

It  was  a  scene  typical  of  those  rough,  unsophisticated 
days  when  manliness  was  the  common  characteristic 
of  all  classes  of  Englishmen.    The  fellows  in  the  waist 
were  of  all  ages  and  all  sizes.    The  boatswain  was  a 
thin  little  man  of  over  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  long 
white  scar  on  his  brown  neck,  two  fingers  gone  from 
his  right  hand,  a  pigt..    tarred  like  a  stay,  a  whimsical 
mouth  and  eyes  as  round  and  quick  as  a  bird's.    One 
of  the  master-gunners  was  big,  elderly,  and  ruddy- 
faced;    the  other  lank,  young,  and  brown  of  skii. 
The  master-armourer  had  the  face  and  bearing  of  a 
parson's  clerk;    but  his  earrings,  crimson  sash,    and 
great  boots  of  yellow  Spanish  leather  suggested  a  less 
peaceful  way  of  life.    The  variety  of  age,  attire,  and 
physical    appearance    continued    throughout    the    re- 
mainder of  the  crew.     The  officers  on  the  poop  were 


A  Good  Fighter 


201 


scarcely  more  uniform  in  any  of  these  particulars. 
All  except  the  two  mates  wore  their  swords. 

Francis  Drurie's  face  was  thin  and  pale;  but,  as 
he  looked  down  at  his  men,  his  eyes  brightened  and  a 
tinge  of  red  warmed  his  cheeks. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  here  we  are  again,  bound  on  a 
long  and  rough  voyage.  We'll  run  the  risks  of  fog, 
wind  and  drifting  ice.  But  we  have  good  timber  under 
our  feet  and  good  spars  and  hemp  aloft,  and  honest 
work  to  do  for  the  king  and  the  company.  Speaking 
for  Master  Danvers  and  myself,  and  the  other  officers, 
I  ask  you  to  show  the  same  courage  and  willingness  as 
you  showed  last  year.  I  ask  no  more  than  that.  Let 
the  new  men  follow  the  old,  and  they'll  not  go  wrong 
—  for  the  lads  who  sailed  with  me  last  voyage  proved 
themselves  hearts  of  oak.  Do  your  work  as  honest 
sailors  and  you  shall  be  treated  as  all  honest  lads  are 
treated  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure.  Boatswain,  rum 
for  all  hands." 

He  lifted  his  hat  to  the  rough  fellows,  smiled  down 
at  them  and  turned  away.  Then  the  crew  roar  id  all 
together  as  one  man.  They  waved  their  tarry  hands 
aloft  and  shouted  their  commander's  name  with  all 
their  might.  Drurie  turned  and  bowed  again,  his  face 
aglow  and  his  eyes  gleaming. 

Dick,  who  went  by  the  name  of  St.  George,  and  Cre- 


402 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


i 


[ill 


mona  got  along  finely  with  the  other  gentlemen  and  the 
crew.  Dick  was  not  inclined  to  tall.,  and  Cremona 
was  mclined  to  chatter  aU  the  time;  and  vet  they 
were  both  popular.  Cremona  told  wonderful  stories 
of  famous  people  and  strange  places  -  few  of  which 
I  fear,  were  true.  But  they  were  interesting  tales  and 
rumed  no  reputations. 

Fore  and  aft,  peace  and  good  will  reigned  aboard  the 
Brave  Adventure.  The  commander  and  the  master 
never  clashed,  the  gentlemen  engaged  in  no  bickerings- 
thc  men  did  their  work  and  sang  their  songs  and  kept 
their  knives  to  cut  their  salt  beef  and  scrape  the  spars 
with.  No  head  winds  came  to  delay  them,  and  no  fog 
shrouded  them;  and  so,  for  eight  days,  the  little  ship 
held  peacefully  on  her  course,  all  well  inboard  and 
overboard,  aloft  and  alow. 

On  the  morning  of  the  ninth  day  out  of  Bristol 
whUe  the   gentlemen   were  breakfasting,  White,   the 
second  mate,  thrust  his  head  into  the  cabin. 

"  Schooner  on  the  port  quarter,  sir,  bearing  up  under 
all  sail,"  he  said. 

This  was  addressed  to  Drurie;  but  the  commander  " 
turned    to    Danvers    as   if    to   refer    the    matter   to 
him, 

Danvers  left  his  seat  at  the  crowded  table. 

"  She  may  be  a  French  privateer,  sir,  or  a  Sallee 


A  Good  Fighter 


5203 


rover  or  some  other  breed  of  pirate,"  he  said.    "  V.hat 
are  your  wishes,  sir?" 

"  Hold  to  your  course  under  reduced  sail,  Master 
Danvers,'.'  replied  Francis. 

Danvers  grinned  and  hurried  from  the  cabin.  The 
gentlemen  ceased  talking  and  began  to  eat  \cry  fast, 
eager  to  get  on  deck. 

The  Brave  Adventure's  mainsail  was  furled  and  two 
of  her  jibs  were  hauled  down.  This  reduced  !7?r  pace 
by  several  knots  an  hour.  All  hands  gathered  on 
the  decks  for  a  look  at  the  strange  vessel  that  v.as  so 
openly  cracking  on  all  sail  to  overhaul  them.  They 
were  of  opinion  that  the  schooner  was  not  a  trading 
vessel;  and  in  this  their  hearts  spoke.  The  schooner 
grew  mo.Tientarily  to  the  view.  Francis  studieH  her 
through  his  telescope  for  a  long  time,  without  con.;aent. 
The  master,  standing  beside  him,  also  had  his  glass 
bearing  on  her. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  her?  "  asked  Francis. 

"  I  make  her  either  Spanisn  or  English,  sir,  an'  a 
smart  craft,"  repUed  Danvers. 

Drurie  handed  his  telescope  to  Cremona.  "Tell 
me  if  you  ever  saw  anylhing  just  like  her  before,"  he 
said. 

Cremona  looked,  and  uttered  aii  exclamntinn  of 
wonder  and  delight.    "  I  think  I  see  her  one    ay  — 


^^1 


mi 


204 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


or  her  very  twin  sister — off  the  coast  o'  Portugal," 
he  said. 

Francis  Drurie  laughed  lightly  and,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  fell  to  pacing  the  narrow  deck 
from  rail  to  rail.  He  felt  sure  that  the  approaching 
vessel  was  an  enemy  of  some  sort.  Ten  to  one  it  was 
the  same  craft  that  gave  them  such  a  dashing  shoreward 
race  en  the  day  they  beached  the  Merry  Andrew  on 
the  rocks  of  the  desolate  cove. 

Here  was  something  to  take  his  mind  for  a  little 
while  off  his  gnawing  worries.  Here  he  was,  with  his 
own  ship  under  him  and  trusty  men  round  him  on  the 
threshold  of  his  first  sea-fight.  His  blood  drummed  in 
his  arteries  and  he  felt  an  impulse  to  shout. 

But  he  must  keep  cool.  Here  were  thirty  men  and 
a  fine  ship  ready  to  do  his  bidding.  He  must  keep  clear- 
headed, and  prove  himself  worthy  of  their  trust.  He 
halted,  turned  a  flushed  face  toward  the  schooner,  and 
then  touched  Danvers  on  the  arm. 

"  We  must  fight  to  a  finish,"  he  said.  "  I  want  play 
at  long  range  for  a  little  while ;  and  if  that  does  not  fix 
her,  broadsides  at  pistol-range.  But  do  not  let  her 
get  her  irons  on  us,  for  they  may  be  three  to  our 
one.  Now  it  is  for  you  to  sail  and  for  me  to 
fight." 

Danvers  grasped  the  commander's  hand.     **  I'll  do 


A  Good  Fighter 


205 


my  best,  captain,"  said  he.     "  I'U  lay  her  to  your 
taste,  sir,  never  fear." 

The  schooner  was  sweeping  up  on  them  at  a  fine 
pace,  now  pitching  high,  now  dippping  her  sharp  bow 
deep  as  the  gilded  fiddles.  Danvers  shot  a  calculating 
glance  at  her,  and  then  bellowed  forward.  In  a  minute 
the  big  mainsail  was  shaken  out  again  and  the  brig 
sprang  ahead.  Drurie,  who  was  inspecting  the  crews 
of  the  guns,  noticed  this  and  smiled.  He  knew  that 
Danvers  was  not  running  away. 

Still  the  schooner  drew  nearer.  A  topsail  was  furled 
aboard  the  brig  and  the  two  upper  jibs  were  run  up 
agam.  The  master  wanted  her  just  so,  and  was  sparing 
no  pains  to  get  her  exactly  suited  to  his  needs.  He 
wanted  her  swift  and  handy  at  the  same  time.  The 
mate  seemed  to  echo  his  commands  almost  before  they 
were  clear  of  his  lips.  The  first  mate  stood  by  the 
mainmast  and  the  second  by  the  fore.  The  boatswain's 
pipe  shrilled  merrily.  The  commander  went  the 
rounds  of  the  little  ship,  with  a  word  of  encouragement 
for  every  one. 

He  gave  Prowse  command  of  one  broadside  of  four 
heavy  cannon  and  Dick  command  of  the  other.  He 
posted  Tizard  forward  with  the  bow-chaser  and  Duff 
aft  v.ith  the  four  swivels.  He  kept  Cremona  with 
him;  and  Nicholas  followed  the  two,  with  his  master's 


1S 


i\H 


206 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


telescope  under  one  arm  and  a  cutlass  under  the 
other. 

The  decks  were  cleared  for  action.  Cutlasses  and 
muskets  were  served  to  all  hands,  the  guns  loaded  and 
the  linstocks  and  pots  of  red  coals  were  brought  to 
the  gunners.  Now  Danvers  had  the  sails  to  his  likmg, 
and  handed  over  eight  of  his  mariners  to  Drurie  for 
service  with  the  guns. 

The  schooner,  still  drawing  gradually  nearer,  fired 
a  gun  from  her  bows.  The  shot  fell  short  of  the  brig. 
At  that,  Drurie  ran  up  the  red  ensign  of  England.  In 
answer,  a  great  square  of  black  crawled  up  to  the 
foretop  of  the  schooner,  A  roar  of  anger  and  derision 
went  up  from  the  decks  of  the  Brave  Adventure.  Drurie 
left  the  poop  and  again  made  a  round  of  the  guns,  the 
men  cheeri'- '  at  the  sight  of  him.  Again  the  schooner 
fired,  with  the  same  lack  of  resuU  as  before. 

The  brig  swung  southward  a  few  points.  Then 
Mr.  Prowse,  who  commanded  the  guns  on  the  port 
side,  took  off  his  coat,  bared  his  right  arm  to  the  elbow 
and  drew  his  sword.  He  came  of  a  sea-fighting  family 
and  had  the  heart  of  a  giant  behind  his  ribs;  but  he 
was  young,  slender  of  build,  with  a  pink-and-white 
face  and  an  arm  Uke  a  girl's. 

"  Man  your  guns,  my  lads,"  he  cried.  "  We'll 
have  the  first  crack  at  them,  by  the  looks  of  things. 


A  Good  Fighter 


207 


It  wUl  be  a  guinea  for  each  gun  if  the  splinters  fly  at 
the  first  round." 

The  schooner  was  nearer  now,  heading  a  trifle  more 
to  the  westward,  with  the  wmd  fair  over  her  taffrail. 
Now  she  furled  her  topsail  and  stowed  her  gafftopsail. 
Again  she  fired;  and  this  time  the  shot  went  skipping 
c  ver  the  water  about  fifty  yards  from  the  brig's  stern. 
Prowse  looked  up  anxiously  at  Drurie.  Drurie  met 
the  glance  and  nodded. 

"  On  her  hull,  lads,"  cried  Prowse.    "  Not  too  high 
Steady.    Fire!" 

The  priming  in  the  touch-holes  flashed  and  the  big 
guns  roared  and  recoiled,  and  the  white  smoke  poured 
out  and  clung  to  the  jumping  seas. 
^  From  the  brig  the  eager  watchers  saw  a  stick  of 
timber  spring  up  from  the  schooner's  rail  and  rip 
through  her  mainsail. 

"So  we  gets  our  money,  I  take  it,"  observed  an 
ancient  mariner. 

After  another  volley  from  !vlr.  Prowse's  guns  which 
hulled  the  schooner  high  above  the  water-line,  the 
Brave  Adventure  circled  to  the  west  and  north  again. 
The  schooner  shifted  after  her,  firing  again  and  Tgain 
from  the  great  gun  in  her  bows,  bent  on  knocking  a 
spar  out  of  her  quarry  and  then  getting  to  close  quarters. 

Twenty  minutes  passed  in  silence  aboard  the  brig. 


ri 


\ 


208 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


A  ball  from  the  pirate  entered  the  empty  forecastle. 
Another  sank  into  the  heavy  timber  under  the  neck 
of  the  tiller.  Then  Dick's  guns  bellowed  out,  hurling 
their  iron  defiance  into  the  enemy's  rigging.  The 
schooner  swung  and  replied  with  a  broadside  of  light 
metal  that  did  nothing  more  than  knock  a  few  splinters 
iixto  the  air. 

The  vessels  drew  gradually  closer,  sailing  the  same 
course,  with  the  schooner  to  windward.  Musketry 
fire  opened  on  the  schooner  and  the  balls  began  hum- 
ming over  the  brig's  bulwarks.  Then  Dick's  four 
guns  spoke  again  and  the  schooner's  forctopmast 
fell  to  ix)rt,  and  hung  in  a  useless  mass  of  flapping 
canvas  and  tangled  cordage.  And  that  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end. 

Dan  vers  worked  the  Brave  Adventure  to  \\indward 
of  the  crippled  pirate.  Keeping  clear  of  her  heavy 
bow-chaser,  he  gave  Drurie  the  opportunity  to  send 
broadside  after  broadside  into  her.  There  was  no 
danger  now  of  the  grappling-irons  of  the  schooner 
getting  their  clutch  u[X)n  the  brig. 

The  comj^any's  vessel  chose  her  position  and  bat- 
tered her  late  pursuer  at  any  range  that  suggested 
itself  to  the  master  and  the  commander. 

Surrender  is  a  thing  unknown  to  craft  of  the  schoon- 
er's kidney  —  for  a  man  had  better  die  fighting  than 


A  Good  Fighter 


209 


kicking  his  feet  in  the  air  with  a  rope  around  his  neck. 
So  the  schooner's  black  flag  flew  until  the  topmast  fell, 
and  was  then  run  up  in  the  mizzen  rigging. 

At  last  Drurie  requested  the  master  to  lay  the  brig 
aboard  the  disabled,  shattered  hulk.  It  was  accom° 
plished  within  fifteen  minutes  of  the  word,  Mr.  Prowse 
scorching  the  schooner's  side  with  a  final  volley  (  f 
his  guns  even  as  the  two  vessels  came  together.  Irons 
were  thro\TO,  and  the  big,  broken  schooner  and  the 
little,  uninjured  brig  closed  in  a  death-grip.  This 
was  the  pirate's  last  chance. 

Her  company  cf  eighty  cutthroats  had  been  reduced 
to  a  disorganized  handful  by  the  gun  and  musket  fire 
of  the  brig;  but  that  desperate  handful  scrambled 
aboard  the  Brave  Adventure. 

The  first  to  leap  upon  the  brig's  deck  was  a  short, 
sturdy  fellow  with  a  great,  black  beard  twisted  into  a 
dozen  little  tails,  each  tail  tied  with  a  yellow  ribbon. 
He  flashed  a  cutlass  and  roared  like  a  bull.  But 
Cremona  met  him  — and  that  was  the  end  of  the 
career  of  Black  Monk,  one  of  the  bloodiest  pirates 
of  the  time  and  a  business  acquaintance  of  the  Senor 
Josef  Alcazardo. 

His  followers  were  speedily  served  in  the  same  way. 
every  rogue  of  them  fighting  to  the  last.  The  decks  of 
the  Brave   Adventure  ran  red  with  the  blood  cf  her 


«:o 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


enemies.  After  twenty  minutes  of  this  frantic  struggle 
there  was  not  a  pirate  left  to  hang  to  the  yard- 
arm. 

Francis  Drurie  and  a  small  escort  went  aboard  the 
schooner  to  investigate.  They  found  her  in  ballast. 
The  hull  was  shot  through  in  a  dozen  places,  and 
she  was  filling  fast.  Every  spar  was  more  or  less 
disabled.  Every  gun  was  dismounted  and  dead  men 
sprawled  everywhere.  A  fire  was  smouldering  in  a 
mass  of  fallen  sails  on  the  forecastle-head.  Amidshios, 
in  the  litter  of  corpses,  splintered  wood,  blood,  and 
overthro\vn  gear,  lay  several  puncheons  of  rum  with 
the  bungs  out.  The  rank  liquor  mixed  with  the  ranker 
blood  in  the  scuppers. 

Drurie  entered  the  houses  under  the  high  poop- 
deck.  On  the  table  in  the  outer  cabin  lay  scattered 
playing-cards,  a  couple  of  leather  dice-boxes,  and  a 
broken  bottle.  The  table  was  wet,  a^.d  a  puddle  of 
wine  lay  on  the  table.  Mr.  Prowse  stooped  and  picked 
something  from  the  floor.  It  was  a  small  shot  from 
one  of  the  brig's  swivels. 

"  Duff  broke  the  bottle,"  he  remarked,  with  a 
nervous  laugh. 

Duff  laughed,  too,  quite  immoderately.  They  were 
young  men;  and,  though  they  had  made  more  than 
one  vi._  age,  this  was  their  first  experience  in  exter- 


A  Good  Fighter 


211 


minating  pirates.     They  were  both  a  trifle  shaken, 
beyond  a  doubt. 

Tizard  was  cooler.  He  had  once  sailed  a  voyage 
to  the  West  Indies  as  a  midshipman  aboard  a  sloop- 
of-war. 

"  I  put  a  shot  hereabouts,"  he  said,  hunting  around. 
"  Danvers  didn't  give  me  many  chances;  but  I  took 
what  he  gave.  Ah,  here  we  are! "  He  pointed  with 
an  air  of  satisfaction  at  a  hole  low  in  the  port  side 
of  the  cabin  and  at  another  low  in  the  starboard  side. 
"  I  wish  they'd  been  playing  cards  when  that  went 
through,"  he  said. 

Drurie  kicked  open  a  door  in  the  forward  bulkhead 
and  passed  into  the  inner  cabin,  with  his  gentlemen 
crowding  after  him.  The  cabin  was  a  fine  one,  gilded 
and  car\-ed  and  hung  with  silk.  It  was  the  full  width 
of  the  stern.  There  were  long  lockers  aft,  under  the 
square  ports,  and  a  bunk  against  the  forward  bulk- 
head. Fine  rugs  covered  the  deck  underfoot.  The 
gentlemen  kicked  these  rugs  into  a  heap  and  soon  found 
a  little  hatch.  It  was  locked;  so  they  broke  it  open 
with  an  ax.  In  a  twinkling  they  were  down  in  the 
lazaretto.  Only  the  commander  and  two  seamen 
remained  above  in  the  cabin. 

Drurie  went  to  the  bunk  and  feh  under  the  pillows 
and   mattress.     First    he   produced   a   small    pistol. 


m 


% 


212  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


beautifuUy  inlaid  with  gold  and  mother-of-pearl. 
This  he  passed  to  one  of  the  men,  who  placed  it  on 
the  table.  Next  came  a  small  leather  bag  full  of  all 
manner  of  sparkling  gems;  then  a  canvas  bag  full  of 
gold  coins,  another  of  silver  coins,  and  yet  another  of 
all  kinds  of  gold  and  silver  trinkets,  some  with  jewels 
set  in  them,  and  some  without. 

As  the  men  spread  ihe  contents  of  the  bags  on  the 
table,  Drurie  glanced  over  them  indilTerently.  But 
suddenly,  with  a  sharp  cry,  he  stepped  forward  and 
snatched  up  one  of  the  trinkets. 

It  was  a  small  gold  cross,  studded  with  pearls. 

He  held  it  close  to  his  eyes,  staring  horribly.  His 
face  went  gray  as  ashes.  "  My  God!  "  he  cried,  leaning 
heavily  against  the  table. 

Two  of  the  seamen  put  their  arms  about  him.  Still 
he  stared  at  the  little  cross  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  At 
that  moment,  Dick  came  up  from  the  lazaretto  with 
two  dull  bars  of  silver  in  his  arms;  but  at  sight  of  his 
friend^s  face  he  let  them  fall  and  spran-^'  forward. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  he  cri<-d,  pushing  one 
of  the  men  aside, 

Drurie  shook  his  head  and  held  the  little  cross  before 
Dick's  eyes.  Dick  looked  at  it,  wonderingly  at  first, 
and  then  with  a  light  of  terrified  recognition  in  his 


eves. 


n. '«¥»■-, -5u   .Si- SI- 


A  Good  Fighter 


213 


Yes,  it  was  like  the  cross  his  sister  had  always  worn  at 
her  throat,  since  she  was  a  little  girl.  He  remembered 
now  —  Francis  had  given  it  to  her  for  a  birthday  gift. 

Suddenly  Drurie  slipped  the  cross  into  his  pocket 
and  began  to  hunt  through  the  other  trinkets.  He 
spread  the  little  pile  of  gold  and  sil-.-er  with  trembling 
fingers.  Here  were  rings  and  ^  rooches,  bracelets 
and  earrings;  but  not  one  of  these  did  he  recognize 
as  ever  having  been  worn  by  Isobel. 

Dick,  reading  his  thought,  began  searching  through 
the  contents  of  the  other  bags;  but  nothing  other  than 
the  pearl-studded  cross  resembled  anything  of  Isobel's. 

"  There  are  a  thousand  crosses  Uke  that  in  the  world  " 
said  Dick.  ' 

"I  hope  it  is  so,"  replied  Francis,  looking  about 
him  like  one  just  awakened  from  an  evil  dream. 

Now,  all  the  gentlemen  were  up  from  the  lazaretto, 
with  a  small  treasure  of  bar  silver,  silks,  spices,  and 
such  costly  merchandise. 

A  sailor  looked  into  the  cabin.  "  She  be  settUn' 
fast,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  Gather  up  the  stuff,"  ordered  Drurie,  "  and  get 
back  to  the  brig." 

Then  he  searched  every  inch  of  the  cabin,  tearing 
down  the  hangings  with  his  hands;  but  nothing  of 
IsobePs  could  he  find. 


!  J    « 

i 


•;   i 


11 


CHAPTER  X\1II 

isobe:   learns  her  uncle's  real  nature 

Alcazardo's  little  schooner,  the  Twelve  Apostles, 
bore  westward  and  southward  across  the  Atlantic 
day  after  day,  with  fine  weather  and  fair  winds. 

Once  she  was  sighted  and  followed  for  a  few  hours 
by  an  English  war-ship,  and  on  another  occasion  a 
big  topsail- schoox^cr  wasted  half  a  day  in  driving 
along  in  her  wake. 

When  Isobel  recovered  fro'  he  swoon  caused  by 
Alcazardo's  sudden  disclosure  of  his  duplicity,  she 
found  herself  in  a  tiny  cabin,  Ijing  in  a  narrow  berth, 
with  Maria  bending  over  her.  She  stared  vaguely  at  the 
maid  for  a  moment,  then  remembered  and  understood. 
For  a  little  while  anger  and  scorn  drove  fear  and 
caution  from  her,  and  she  went  straight  up  to  the  deck 
and  charged  her  uncle  with  being  a  liar  and  a  rascal. 
He  laughed  quietly;  but  later  he  came  down  to  her 
cabin  and  warned  her  against  another  such  outbreak. 
He  spoke  calmly  enough,  but  she  trembled  before  the 
light  in  his  eyes. 

214 


^-nm.  sit. 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  215 


'•  And  I  want  you  and  your  maid  to  understand," 
he  said,  "  that  I  am  not  known  aboard  this  craft  or 
on  my  island  as  either  Alcazardo  or  your  uncle.  I  am 
Captain  Gomez,  and  you  are  my  daughter.  Under- 
stand this,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

For  two  weeks  Isobcl  did  not  once  look  at  or  speak 
to  her  uncle;  but  at  last  it  ci.me  to  her  that  her  only 
hope  of  ever  escaping  from  him  lay  in  hiding  her  real 
feelings  from  him  as  much  as  possible.  She  was  young, 
and  while  she  lived  there  would  always  be  hope;  but 
worldly  hope  cannot  survi\e  death. 

Yes,  she  was  young,  f-i  life  meant  the  chance  of 
finding  her  lover  again.  She  would  try  to  hide  her 
hate  and  sufferuig.  She  would  watch  the  ra=cal.  If 
need  be,  she  would  kill  him.  She  would  treasure  her 
life  day  by  day,  guarding  it  with  Ues  and  deception. 
She  would  risk  everything  but  her  honour  to  snve  it; 
for,  if  life  were  to  bring  her  again  to  her  lover,  it  was' 
dearer  to  her  than  everything  but  honour. 

When  the  island  was  sighted  she  pretended  interest 
m  it.  Her  uncle  smiled  sardonically.  But  he  loved  to 
talk,  possessing  the  social  instinct  to  an  amazing 
degree.  He  told  her,  in  glowing  terms,  what  a  charm"^ 
ing  spot  it  was,  and  of  the  beautiful  house  surrounded 
by  groves  and  gardens. 

''he  looked  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes.     The 


216  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


II .  i- 


II 

fsr- 


tears  were  genuLne,  but  the  pleading,  trusting  tones  in 
which  she  spoke  to  him  were  not. 

"  But  we  shall  not  live  here  a  great  while  ?  You  will 
take  me  back  to  Virginia  soon,  won't  you  ?  "  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply,  with  a  sneering  smile. 
So  she  was  a  harmless  fool,  after  aU.  He  had  begun 
to  fear  that  she  had  a  mind.  He  was  glad  to  find  that 
she  was  a  fool.  He  had  robbed  her  and  lied  to  her, 
and  here  she  was  looking  at  him  like  a  dove. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  with  something  of  his  old  man- 
ner, "  I  am  so  hounded  by  my  enemies  that  I  fear 
we  shall  have  to  live  quietly  on  my  little  island  there 
for  a  year  or  two.  I  have  many  troubles,  so  you  must 
lorgive  me,  my  dear,  if  I  sometimes  act  and  spcik  in  ;; 
way  that  hurts  your  tender  feelings." 

"  I  know  you  do  not  mean  to  be  unkind,"  replied  the 
girl  faintly. 

There  was  a  certain  excitement  in  this  play  that 
raised  her  spirits.  She  could  see  that  the  man  believed 
her  :  be  a  fool.  .\h,  he  should  learn,  some  day,  who 
was  the  fool! 

He  talked  to  her  as  to  a  child,  without  trying  to 
keep  the  sneering  amusement  which  he  felt  from  his 
voice  and  manner. 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  when  we  go  back  to  Virginia  ?  " 
he  asked.    "  Your  frien.ds  do  not  like  me;   and  I  am 


■  I 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature 


417 


too  poor  a  man  to  live  in  one  of  those  fine  houses  and 
keep  up  a  fine  place  ?  " 

"But  when  I  tell  everybody  how  kind  you  have 
been  to  me,  they  will  be  kind  to  you,"  replied  the  girl. 
"  And  if  you  are  poor,  you  can  have  my  money;  and 
Hopeland,  too,  when  I  marry." 

Alcazardo  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  He 
glanced  away  and  grinned  devilishly.  Why,  a  man 
could  do  anything  with  a  fool  like  this!  After  all,  he 
had  stolen  only  half  her  property;  and  old  Fair  wood 
was  sure  to  die,  in  a  year  or  two,  of  overeating.  It  was 
worth  considering.  She  would  give  him  Hopeland, 
would  she  ? 

"  I  could  not  think  of  accepting  your  property, 
my  dear,'  he  said,  with  a  leer. 

"But,  as  you  are  poor,  you  must,"  she  replied 
guilelessly.  "  I  shall  not  need  it.  But  please  tell  me 
why  you  are  not  known  by  your  real  name  on  this 
ship  and  on  the  island?  I  hope  you  have  not  done 
anything  wrong." 

This  was  just  the  kind  of  idiotic  question  Alcazardo 
was  expectmg  from  the  simple  little  fool.  It  was 
interesting  —  almost  as  interesting  as  the  first  winning 
of  her  trust  in  Virginia.  But  nevet  until  now  had  he 
suspected  her  of  being  quite  so  stupid  and  trusting 
as  the  last  few  minutes  had  proved  her. 


1:^^ 


218 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"  ^ly  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "  the  officers  of  the  law  are 
after  me  for  shooting  a  man.  It  happened  before  I 
ever  saw  you.  I  was  walking  along  a  quiet  street  in 
Madrid  one  day,  when  I  saw  a  man  attack  a  woman  and 
beat  licr  with  a  stick.  I  was  so  overcome  with  rage 
that  I  drew  a  pistol  and  shot  him.  He  was  a  great 
man;  and  I  have  been  hunted  ever  since.  I  have  been 
afraid  to  tell  you  this,  my  dear  Isobel,  for  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  you  look  upon  me  as  a  murderer." 

"  I  think  it  was  very  noble  of  you,"  replied  the  girl, 
looking  at  him  with  wonder  in  her  eves 

But  the  wonder  was  at  the  ease  and  fertility  of  his 
imagination  and  the  depth  of  his  rascality. 

"  If   I    must  pretend  to  be  your  daughter,  I  must 
call  you  father,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  aloud,  and  patted  her  head  as  a  man  pats 
the  head  of  an  amusing  dog. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  he  said  in  a  nasty  but  merry 
vein.  "  Call  me  papa,  by  all  means.  I  am  proud  of 
my  lovely,  clever  daughter.  And  when  we  go  back  to 
Virginia,  what  a  stir  the  poor  old  don  will  make,  to 
be  sure,  with  his  beautiful  daughter  and  his  fine  son- 
in-law.    I  see  that  I  have  great  times  before  me." 

Iscbcl  retired  to  her  cabin  for  a  little  while.  She 
prayerl  —  and  it  was  a  queer  prayer.  She  prayed  to 
be  forgiven  the  lies  which  she  had  spoken  and  acted, 


?"  FE 


Her  Un  tc'.  Real  Nature 


219 


»d  for  strength  an.i  cunnln,   .„  ,^11  and  act  more 

her'tr  T  ™-''"'  '='"■  ^'"""'"S  "™'»y  "--de 
■er  uncle  and  gaz.ng  with  round  eyes  and  e.vclama- 

o  s  of  assumed  delight  at  .ho  white-and-green  island 
that  grew  so  swiftly  i„  ,he  field  of  sparklbg  blue 

A3  t,ie  httlc  schooner  drew  near  the  eastern  coast 
-  master  of  the  island  saw  a  small  group  of  m» 

frmgc  of  cocoanut.trees.     One  was  waving  a  white 
flag  fra.t,cally  seaward.     Through  his  telescope  th 
P«,pnetor  could  see  that  the  others  of  the  group  wer 
t  ctng  landward  and  held  muskets  in  their  hands.   HU 
blac.<  eyes  fairly  glistened  with  rage.    He  called  the 
master  of  the  schooner  to  him. 

trio  "  ir"  ^'".T'  '"""  ™-^'  ''"^"""^  '°°  '™S  this 
<np,     he  sa,d.        .See,  they  have  driven  their  driver, 

a  most  ,„=o  the  lagoon.     Clear  the  bow-gun  and  load 

her  w,,.,  cantster,  and  we'll  let  them  know  that  the 

•lo"  has  come  home  again." 

ma'i!-,  h"1  "'i'  '•"''•  ''"'  '■'  '"^  '  -"'fe  '°  chill  a 
man  s  blood.    The  big  gun  in  the  schooner's  bow  was 

«npped  of  her  canvas  jacket,  loaded,  a.nd  run  forward 

«  double  ume     It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  rough, 

mas  er  less-looking  feUows  were  in  fear  of  Alcazardo. 


He  stepped  close  to  one  of  them 


a  huge,  blond 


220 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


feUow  with  the  devil's  mark  on  his  face  and  a  bodv  like 
a  gladiaior's  -  and  the  fellow  shrank  aside  with  a  little 
gasp  of  fear.    The  don  had  his  children  well  in  hand. 
Now  the  schooner  was  within  a  hundred  vards  of 
the  mouth  of  the  gap  in  the  reef  opening  into  the 
lagoon.      She    moved    slowly    and    steadilv    forward 
under  her  main- jib.    From  her  deck  a  mob  of  blacks 
and  ragged,  brick-red  whites  could  be  seen  amon-  the 
gray  stems  of  the  cocoanut-trees.     Thev  were  a^med 
with    hoes    and    cane-knives.      They    shouted    mad, 
wordless  threats  at  the  half-dozen  feUows  on  the  beach, 
and  even  at  the  schooner. 

^  The  schooner  drifted  through  the  gap.  Alcazardo 
sighted  the  long  cannon.  At  the  glow  of  the  red  spark 
of  the  linstock,  the  men  on  the  sand  ran  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  water  and  threw  themselves  Hat.  The 
poor  maddened  fools  beyond  dashed  out  into  open 
sight.  Then  the  cannon  belched  and  roared  across 
the  still  waters  of  the  lagoon. 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  slaves  fell  and  twisted  on  the 
white  sand.  The  others  turned  and  fled,  their  cries  of 
anger  thinned  to  screams  of  fear. 

One  of  the  overseers  scrambled  to  his  feet,  screamed 
and  fell  forward  into  the  water.     Alcazardo  smiled' 
took  the  burning  linstock  from  the  gunner  and  touched 
It  to  the  tip  of  a  slender  roll  of  paper  and  tobacco 


■»: -■■:-€.m';i.v^^-;-.L  .j"^. 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  221 


which  he  held  between  his  lips.  In  returning  it,  he 
struck  the  flame  against  the  gunner's  vvTist  The 
fellow  did  not  flinch,  but  a  horrid  film  of  terror  dimmed 
his  eyes. 

"  That  was  a  good  shot,"  said  the  master  of  the 
island.  "  Now  they  know  that  the  don  is  home  again 
and  the  days  of  love  and  peace  returned." 

Isobel  had  gone  to  her  cabin,  white  of  face  and 
convulsed  with  sobs,  the  moment  after  the  firin-  of 
the  cannon.  Maria  followed  her.  Isobel  turned  °and 
threw  her  arms  around  the  other's  neck. 

"To  think,"  she  cried,  "he  murders,  and  smiles! 
Oh,  Maria,  we  have  come  to  hell  itself!  May  I  have 
strength  to  look  him  in  the  eyes -to  blind  him - 
to  befool  him.  He  shoots  do^v7l  his  labourers  as  one 
would  shoot  quail!" 

The  Spanish  maid  was  frightened,  and  did  her  best 
to  quiet  her  mistress. 

"  But  they  had  knives  in  their  hands,"  she  said 
"  They  were  terrible.     They  were  like  beasts      The 
sciior  had  to  fire  upon  them,  to  save  the  poor  men  on 
the  sand." 

"  Yes,  Maria,  you  are  right  and  —I  am  very  foolish  " 
replied  the  lady,  in  low,  hard  tones.  "  The  beasts 
were  ready  to  kill  their  loving  master.  How  he  must 
grieve  at  having  killed  one  of  his  overseers." 


Sif 


li 


222 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


They  heard  the  cable  roar  over  the  iron  lip  ;c 

hawse-hole,   and    the   splash  of  the    anchor    .u    the 
lagoon. 

Isobel  dried  her  eyes,  forced  a  smile  to  her  lips, 
and  returned  to  the  deck.    The  maid  followed  her.  ^  ' 

The  schooner  was  at  rest  on  the  crystal  water, 
midway  between  the  reef  and  the  beach  of  powdered 
coral.  Already  a  boat  was  pulling  away  from  her, 
with  Alcazardo  in  ihe  item-sheets.  The  master  of 
the  little  craft  stepped  up  to  Isobel  with  a  respectful 
salulalicn. 

"  Tlic  do:i  has  gone  ashore  to  set  things  right  for 
your  arrival,  scnoriia;^  he  said.  "  He  will  rc.urn  for 
you  in  a  few  minutes." 

Lcl^el  eyed  him  steadily.  "  Have  you  been  long  in 
the  service  of  — :^f  my  father?"  she  asked,  speaking 
very  nv.ictly. 

TIic  mariner  shifted  from  one  mahogany-hued  foot 
to  the  other,  and  gazed  landward.  "  For  a  matter  of 
two  years,  maybe,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  this  yessel  used  for?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  For  trading  among  the  islands.  But  see,  the  don 
is  looking  back  at  us,"  replied  the  fellow  ncr\^ously. 
"  I'd  better  get  along  with  my  work." 

The  don,  as  everybody  called  Alcazardo  on  the 
schooner,  soon  returned  for  Isobel,  Maria,  and  his  ovm 


wmm^m^mw^^--'^'Mm&^^^ 


t.vat^i 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Natu 


re 


223 


^d  their  baggage.  He  seemed  in  high  spirits,  as 
If  the  httle  matter  of  the  charge  of  canister  had  cheered 
him. 

He  helped  Isobel  over  the  rail  and  into  the  boat 
with  a  fine  air.  He  lifted  Maria  down  bodilv  -  and 
Maria  blushed  and  flashed  her  black  eyes  at  him 

The  boat  was  beached  near  the  spot  where  the 
overseer  had  fallen.  The  body  had  been  carried  away 
but  there  was  still  a  dabble  of  blood  on  the  sand' 
further  up  the  shore  two  slaves  were  liftin-  the  last 
remaining  body  of  their  murdered  comracTes  -  and 
these  were  two  of  the  same  who  had  brandished  their 
cane-knives  so  defiantly  only  a  few  minutes  before 

A  narrow  path  led  through  the  grove  of  cocoanut- 
trees.  The  underbrush  on  either  hand,  between  the 
smooth,  gray  stems,  was  of  whitewood  and  manchine-^l 
The  pale-brown  soil  was  full  of  holes  into  which  .^reat 
land-crabs  scuttled  and  turned,  ready  to  scuttle%ut 
agam. 

From  the  landward  edge  of  the  grove  Isobel  had 
her  first  sight  of  the  house  -  a  full  view  of  it  all  in  a 
flash,  looking  like  a  picture  in  a  book.  It  stood  on  a 
gentle  rise  of  land,  pink-wallod,  pmk-roofed,  with 
vade,  low  eaves  and  deep  galleries.  In  front,  a  dozen 
cabbage-palms  lifted  their  rustling  crests  high  in  the 
sweep  of  the  trades;    the  long  leaves       -nging  with 


I''  I 


WA 


224 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


almost  artificial  regularity  from  the  green,  jade-like 
stem  that  topped  the  gray  pillar  of  the  trunk 
_  At  one  side  stood  the  squat  tower  of  the  windmill 
in  which  the  canes  were  crushed,  and  a  cluster  of 
stables  and  outhouses;  and  between  these  and  the 
house_  a  walled  garden,  with  bright,  strange  foliage 
gleammg  above  the  walls. 

On  the  other  side  stood  a  fine  grove  of  mahogany- 
trees;  and  everywhere  gleamed  the  tender  green  of 
sugar-canes  and  the  banner-like  leaves  of  bananas 
and  plantains.  A  mile  away,  in  the  centre  of  the 
island,  arose  two  moderate,  rounded  hills  shrouded  in 
dark  fohagc.  Overhead  swam  a  cloudless  sky  of  palest 
azure. 

The  first  few  days  of  Lsobel's  stay  on  the  little 
island  of  Madiana,  of  which  the  don  was  sole  pro- 
pn-or  and  the  only  settler,  passed  quietlv.  The  house 
was  large  and  comfortable,  and  through  the  windows 
and  doors  and  along  the  galleries  the  wind  drove 
steadily  all  day  and  all  night. 

Alcazardo  was  busy  with  afiairs  of  the  plantation; 
and  those  affairs  seemed  far  away  from  the  cool  and 
quiet  house.  No  smothered  curses,  cries  of  pain  or 
sound  of  blows  reached  tho  garden  or  the  peaceful 
rooms. 

For  three  days  Isobel  saw  her  uncle  only  during 


.    Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  225 


meals,  and  he  was  sneeringly  agreeable  and  a  shade 
preoccupied.  He  spoke  only  of  the  most  unimportant 
matters,  and  did  not  mention  the  dastardly  deed  by 
which  he  had  announced  his  arrival  to  his  slaves 
Isobel  had  seen,  on  that  first  day,  that  several  of  these 
poor  creatures  were  whites;  but  she  did  not  dare, 
just  then,  to  question  Alcazardo  on  the  point. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  after  the  sudden 
purple  night  had  fallen,  Isobel  happened  upon  her 
uncle  and  Maria  talking  earnestly  together  on  the 
front  steps  of  the  gallery.     The  don  came  straight  to 
Isobel,  took  her  hand  and  drew  her  aside. 

"  :^Iaria  says  that  she  wants  to  return  to  Spain  " 
he  saii.  in  a  voice  sufficiently  loud  for  the  maid  [o 
hear.     '•  I  ha%e  been  telling  her  that  she  cannot  go 
home  fcr  some  momhs-in  fact,  ti.at  she  shall  be 
taken  to  Mrginia  before  she  ever  sees  Spain  again 
I  consider  this  very  unkind  of  the  girl,  and  I  have  told 
her  so.    \ou  are  a  good  mistress  and  a  good  friend  to 
her.    And  she  is  well  paid.    I  cannot  understand  what 
more  she  wants." 

Isobel  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this  rigmarole  But 
she  pretended  to  believe  every  word  of  it.  "  Oh  she 
does  not  mean  it.  Surely  she  does  not  mean  to  lerve 
me!"  she  cried. 


ii 


^Maria  slipped  into  the  hou:,c  without  a  word. 


AI- 


226 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


cazardo  told  his  ward  to  take  heart,  for  the  girl  could 
not  leave  her,  however  much  she  might  want  to 

Isobel  pretended  to  take  comfort  from  tliis  assurance 
"  I  must  beg  her  not  to  think  of  such  a  thin-  "  she 
murmured,  and  ran  into  the  house  and  up  to  tlie'room 
which  she  shared  with  Maria. 

She  found  the  Spanish  girl  'here  sitting  idiv  on 
the  edge  of  her  cot.  She  went  to  her,  knelt  before  her 
and  took  both  her  hands  in  hers. 

"  .Maria,  tell  me  what  you  and  the  senor  were  talking 
about,"  she  pleaded. 

"  I  told  him  that  it  was  my  desire  to  return  im- 
mediately to  Spain,"  replied  the  maid  in  a  small  voice 

"  iMaria,  you  are  not  telling  me  the  truth,"  said 
Isobel,  accusingly.  "  You  are  repeating  somethin^r 
that  he  has  told  you  to  say.  I  know  it  bv  vour  voice" 
even  as  I  heard  the  lie  in  his.  Have  you,  too,  turned 
against  me,  Maria?" 

The  maid  began  to  cry.    "  I  have  not  turned  against 
you,     she  sobbed.     "  But  I  fear  the  senor  -  and  he 
treats  me  very  kindly.    I  am  but  a  poor  servant-maid 
I   am  not  good   and  clever  like  j-ou.   Dona  Isobel 
You  need  not  fear  him,  for  you  are  a  great  lad^•,  and 
rich,  and  he  will  treasure  30U  for  what  jou  mav  do 
for  him  in  the  future.    Oh,  I  see  that.    But  who  am 

\nd  yet  he  treats  me  vcrv 


I  to  dare  to  anger  him? 


Her  Uncle's  Real  Nature  2i7 

kindly  and  -  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what  he  said  to 
me." 

•'  You  need  not  tell  me,"  returned  Isobel  "  Have 
you  no  spirit?  Here  is  a  knife -see,  it  is  sharp  as 
ttamc.    I  carry  it  ahvays.    Take  it,  Maria! " 

"  Xo,  I  do  not  want  it!  "  cried  the  maid.  "  I  am 
neither  a  great  lady  nor  a  fool.  Life  is  good.  If  he 
loves  mc,  v/hy  should  I  kill  myself?  " 

;  Poor  creature.    Poor  litti;  Maria,"  whispered  her 
mistress;  and  she  kissed  her  and  wept  over  her. 

Next  morning  Alcazardo  said:  "  I  have  decided  to 
let  the  girl  go  back  to  Spain,  after  all.  Her  heart  is 
set  on  It;  and  I  can  find  you  a  verv  good  servant 
among  the  slave  women.  The  schooner  leaves  at 
noon." 

Isobel  had  not  the  heart  to  make  anv  answer  She 
went  to  her  room;  nd  soon  Maria  came,  kissed  her 
passionately,  wet  her  face  with  tears,  and  went  awav. 
Isobel  saw  that  the  maid's  eyes  and  cheeks  we^e 
aglow;  and  she  was  silent  under  the  wonder  and  horroi 
of  It.  An  hour  later,  she  watched  the  little  schooner 
saa  out  of  the  lagoon;  and  she  knew  that  it  was  not 
bound  for  Spain,  and  that  Maria  was  not  on  board 

Two  months  later,  Isobel  learned  of  Maria's  death 
at  the  hands  cf  a  jealous  mulatto  woman. 


t.J 


I-  I 

4i   3 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   ICE-FLOE 

After  her  engagement  with  the  schooner  of  the 
notorious  Black  Monlc,  the  Royal  Company's  brig 
completed  her  westward  voyage  without  further  dis- 
turbance. 

Druric  di^  "-'od  the  treasure  of  the  pirate  among  his 
officers  anvl  .w,  every  man  being  served  according 
to  his  rating.  The  provisions  from  the  schooner's 
lazaretto  were  not  reckoned  or  divided,  but  went  to 
the  brig's  credit,  in  bulk,  and  added  much  to  the 
flavour  of  the  meals  in  both  cabin  and  forecastle. 

They  found  the  fort  in  a  sorry  state,  only  partially 
recovered  from  the  distress  of  the  long  winter.  Thev 
were  received  with  a  salute  of  cannon,  feeble  but  well- 
intentioned  cheering,  and  the  capering  of  thin,  bc- 
whiskered  men  along  the  edge  of  the  tide. 

MacAllistcr,  the  commander  of  the  fort,  put  oix 
from  shore  in  an  Indian  canoe,  and  was  on  the  brig's 
deck  before  the  anchors  were  let  go.  He  v/as  a  man 
of  thirty-five  years  of  age,  capable,  quick-tempered, 

228 


^aHp^^aaoajPcv  !■%.. 


The  Ice-floe 


^2^9 


proud  as  Lucifer,  and  |X)or  as  the  soil  on  his  native 
hills.  He  claimed  descent  from  Adam,  King  Arthur, 
St.  Andrew,  and  the  prophets,  and  was  in  the  habit  of 
telling  his  friends  that  the  tree  of  knowlerlge  still  s;tc\v 
and  bore  fruit  on  his  father's  estate  in  the  Highlands 
of  Scotland. 

He  was  full  of  oaths  and  mad  moods  and  the  grandest 
lies  concerning  the  i^ower  and  antirjuity  of  his  familv; 
but  when  he  gave  his  word  to  a  friend  or  an  enemy 
the  thing  was  already  as  good  as  done.  He  had  seen 
military  service  in  almost  every  countr\-  of  Europe, 
had  gone  into  Asia  against  tlie  Turks,  and  had  spent 
a  year  of  his  life  pulling  an  oar  in  a  Turkish  galley. 
It  was  the  opinion  of  his  friends  that  his  experiences 
in  Turkey  had  put  a  twist  in  his  brain. 

He  liked  Francis  Drurie  — and  his  Hkes  v,-ere  as 
violent  as  his  dislikes.  The  moment  his  feet  touched 
the  brig's  deck  he  grabbed  the  commander  in  his  long 
arms  and  pressed  him  to  the  breast  of  his  faded  coat 
with  such  abandonment  of  cordiality  as  almost  to 
crack  the  Virginian's  ribs. 

"Welcome  to  Fort  St.  George  and  St.  Andrew," 
he  cried,  his  gray  eyes  flashing.  "  You  are  welromor, 
Frank,  than  the  King  of  England,  for  you  arc  a  better 


man!  " 


Then  he  told  his  troubles  of  the  past  winter;   how 


230 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


\k  \ 


his  lieutenant  had  died  of  scurvy,  and  his  chief  car- 
penter, his  smith,  and  three  labourers  had  followed 
along  the  same  grim  path  within  the  week;  how  two 
men  had  been  killed  by  savages,  another  lost  In  the 
wilderness,  and  three  caught  by  a  storm  of  wind  and 
snow,  while  hunting,  and  frozen  to  death.  It  was  a 
pitiful  tale. 

"  And  I  expect  the  French  to  move  against  us  before 
the  summer  is  over.  No  doubt  the  savages  ha\e 
carried  word  of  us  to  them  long  before  this,  °  he  con- 
cluded. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  Brave  Adventure  were  soon 
ashore,  and  most  of  the  crew  foUowed  the  moment 
the  sails  were  furled  and  everything  was  made  fast 
and  shipshape.  The  stores  for  the  fort  were  hurried 
out  of  the  briiT's  hold,  a  small  measure  of  rum  was 
served  to  all  hands,  and  MacAllister  announced  that 
to  celebrate  ^hc  arrival  of  the  first  vessel  of  the  fleet, 
a  feast  and  general  merrymaking  would  be  held  as 
soon  as  the  day's  work  was  over.  This  was  received 
with  cheers  by  landsmen  and  sailors  alike. 

Then  Drurie  mounted  the  cask  of  salt  beside  the 
commander  of  the  fort  and  ^aid  that  he  intended  to 
devote  his  share  of  the  treasure  taken  from  the  pirate- 
schooner  to  prizes  for  contests  in  marksmanship  with 
musket  and  pistol,  in  sword-play,  in  felling  trees  with 


The  Ice-floe 


231 


axes,  and  in  many  more  sjx)rts  and  works.  There 
should  be  separate  contests  in  every  event,  he  ex- 
plained, for  the  sailors  and  the  men  of  the  fort,  as  the 
landsmen  had  suffered  from  lacl;  of  food. 

The  men  shouted  and  dimccd  with  delight,  and  e\en 
the  gentlemen  checrevl  Drurie's  generosity.  But  the 
commander  of  the  brig  took  small  joy  of  the  ovation; 
for,  ever  since  the  f.eht  with  the  schooner,  every  hour 
was  haul     d  by  the  little  cross  in  his  poc'-  t. 

Was  it  the  cross  Isobc-l  had  worn  on  her  .  i;  -  neck? 
Or,  was  it  one  of  many  crosses  as  like  it  as  two  musket- 
balls  are  alike?     He  did  not  know.     Sometimes  he 
was  sure  of  the  one  thing,  and  sometimes  of  the  other. 
The  feast  WaS  a  success  and  ])ut  ne,v  heart  into  the 
settlers.     A  score  of  friendly  natives  shared  the  great 
company's  bounty,  and  joined   in   the  dancing  that 
followed  the  eating,  and  sat  like  graven  images  through 
the  singing  and  story-telling.      Captain   .MacAllister 
danced  the  sword-dance,  Francis  and  Prowse  sang, 
and  Cremona  gave  an  exhibition  of  knife-throwing. 
Dawn  was  in  the  east  before  the  little  fort  was  quiet 
and  the  ashes  of  the  fires  were  black. 

Under  the  stimulus  of  full  rations  and  excitement, 
the  fort  seemed  to  gain  new  life.  Work  and  play  went 
on,  side  by  side.  Clearings  were  extended  into  the 
forest  on  every  side  of  the  fort  as  a  precaution  against 


.  I 


.Jfci  >■ 


m 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


sudden  attack  by  Frenchmen  or  natives.    The  stockade 
was  enlarged  and  strengthened,  a  new  house  was  built 
or  MacAllister,  and  all  the  cabins  were  repaired.    A 
bns.  trade  was  carried  on  with  the  natives  from  near 
and  far;    small  parties  explored  the  forests  and  the 
coast,  and  fish  were  caught  in  the  sea  and  the  rivers 
and  smoked  for  winter  use.     The  contests  in  sports 
and  workmanship  were  warmly  engaged   in  and  oc- 
cupied the  men's  spare  time  for  fully  a  month.     The 
summer  was  short;   and  at  the  first  hint  of  the  quick 
frosts  the  hunters  set  out  after  moose  and  caribou 

The  crews  of  the  three  ships  joined  f     a  in  this 
work  and  in  the  gathering  of  wild  berr;.   ,   and  after- 
ward m  the  manufacture  of  pemmi.an  from  the  meat 
and  berncs.    By  this  time,  the  commanders  and  masters 
of  the  ships  were  beginning  to  feel  unec^sy.    The  cargoes 
of  pdts  were  put    under   hatches;    and  early  on  the 
mornmg  that  the  first  thin  shell  of  ice  was  found  on 
the  ponds  around  the  fort,  two  of  the  vessels  sailed 
away.^   Francis  had  to  remain  three  days  longer,  waiting 
for  Dick  and  several  members  of  his  crew  who  were 
«.own  the  coast  in  the  brig's  long-boat.     Hut  at  last 
the    capstan-bars    were    manned    aboard    the    Brave 
Aaz'cniure,  the  anchors  walked  up  and  lashed,  and  the 
square  sails  unfurled. 
V.'inter  comes  swiftly  to  that  northern  sea.     For  a 


II 


The  Ice-floe 


233 


little  while  the  sun  has  held  back  the  merciless  desire 
of  the  frcst,  and  the  silence;  leaves  have  budded  and 
blown,  butterflies  have  spread  their  painted  wings; 
and  then,  as  if  the  forces  of  death  had  been  waiting 
just  behind  the  hills,  desolation  returns  to  wood  and 
stream. 

Out  on  the  sea  the  brief,  azure  days  are  done.  Clouds 
mount  from  the  hidden  pits  of  storm;  fogs  and  snow 
trail  their  shrouds  across  the  shaken  waves;  the  voice 
of  the  surf  fails  along  the  gray  coasts,  silenced  by  the 
black  strip  of  ice  that  widens  hour  by  hour.  Snow  falls, 
and  the  land  and  the  ice  are  as  one;  then  the  winds 
and  currents  struggle  in  those  nameless  wastes  and  the 
new  ice  is  broken  and  tossed  adrift.  The  surf  shouts 
again  along  the  rocks  -  but  in  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
in  a  falling  silence,  again  the  frost  shackles  the  livin-' 
water.  ° 

The  Brave  Adventure  raced  for  the  open  sea,  striving 
to  clear  the  narrow  straits  before  the  frost  should  close 
its  hand  upon  the  north.  She  drove  eastward  and 
northward  across  the  great  bay,  under  every  vard  of 
canvas  she  could  spread.  Hour  by  hour  the  appalling 
shadow  of  winter  — a  shadow  seen  with  the  eyes  of 
the  spirit  — loomed  higher  above  the  northern  hori- 
zon. 

The  men  felt  it.    On  deck  and  aloft  it  cut  deep  into 


234 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


their  courage,  though  the  cold  was  not   ^•et   s:-.crc; 
m  the  warmth  of  cabin  and  forecastle  it  raag  a  faint' 
strange  echo  to  their  laughter.     It  was  not  the  cold 
they  feared,  but  the  blind,  gripping  ice. 
^^  "We  must  drive  her,"  said  the  master  to  Drurie. 
"  So  long  as  this  wind  holds  we  are  safe.    If  we  ^et 
half-way  through  the  straits  before  it   shifts  to   {he 
north  we  can  beat  the  ice  to  the  sea." 

The    wind    failed -then    blew    fitfullv    from    the 
south.    On  a  warm,  bright  morning  thev  rounded  into 
the  narrow  seaway,  and  crept  forward  east  bv  south 
The  sunlight,  and  the  knowledge  that  this  was  the 
course  that  reached  to  England,  raised  the  spirits  of 
all  save  the  more  experienced  mariners. 
^  Danvers  did  not  like  it,  and  watched  the  sea  and  the 
sky  at  every  point  of  the  compass  as  if  he  expected 
an  attack.    He  kept  the  brig  well  up  toward  the  dreary 
frozen  coast  to  the  north  -  so  close  that  it  could  be' 
seen  ^nth  the  naked  eye,  like  a  bank  of  pale  fo-r  along 
the  horizon.    The  day  passed  comfortablv,  but  with 
little  progress.     With  the  setting  of  the  sun  the  wind 
(hed  away,  and  a  sudden  chill  flooded  the  air. 

In  the  outer  cabin  the  gentlemen  sat  around  the 
the  table,  or  lay  in  their  berths  and  listened  to  the  talk 
of  their  comrades  and  'he  weird  comnlaining  of  the 
ship's   timbers.      Not   one   of   them   save    Cremona 


The  Ice-floe 


235 


n 


seemed  to  be  able  to  kc-p  his  mind  on  any  subject  for 
more  than  a  minutt  at  a  time.  They  listened  for  some- 
thing they  could  not  name  —  listened  with  half- 
turned  heads,  furtively.  They  felt  a  menace  they  did 
not  understand.  They  feared  neither  storm  nor  battle; 
but  the  fear  of  the  North  was  in  their  hearts.  They 
listened  for  the  strong,  enlivening  buTet  of  the  wind; 
and,  not  hearing  it,  they  felt  an  anxiety  that  they 
scarcely  tried  to  conceal. 

But  Cremona  was  himself —  outwardly,  at  least. 
He  sat  at  the  ^able  with  a  bottle  of  wine  before  him 
and  told  a  story  that  nobody  listened  to.  It  was  a 
line  story,  too,  and  as  full  of  lies  as  any  history.  To 
catch  young  Prowse's  wandering  attention,  he  leaned 
across  the  table  and  poked  him  in  the  shoulder  with 
one  of  his  great  fingers. 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  '•  that  the  French  lady  turned 
as  V  'i-'te  as  that  candle,  and  fell,  herself,  quick  into 
'  <•  - ,,  and  cried  loud  for  me  to  save  her  valued  life. 
-  '  hat  did  I  do  — can  you  think?  I  knocked  her 
s(.  -i^v  out  of  my  course,  with  a  polite  word,  and  struck 
those  two  pirates  with  my  might.  One  of  those  vile 
fellows  drove  a  knife  —  " 

"Hark!  What  was  that?"  whispered  Prowse, 
brushing  away  Cremona's  finger  and  half  rising  'rom 
his  scat. 


H%  i 


236 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


to  I!"'''  -J?"  ^'"  ^°"'  ^'^^  '^^^'-    ^^°w  listen 
to  me,"  said  Cremona. 

Prowse  paid  no  attention  to  him.    "  What  is  Drurie 
domgondeck?     Why  does  he  stay  up  in  the  cold 
Danvers  can  sail  the  ship  without  his  help  " 

"Now,  you  listen  to  me."  drawled  Cremona,  and 
wen  on  with  the  yarn  to  which  nobody  would  listen 

And  they  thought  he  was  acting  like  a  fool;  whereas 
he  was  domg  h  s  best  to  turn  their  minds  from  th" 
menace  in  the  ai? . 

NeUher  Drurit  nor  Danvers  left  the  deek  that  night 
rTtul     T7.'^'  ^""^  "''^'"^  --i  'he  shroud! 

o« :; " """  '^^""''°''  "•"" '"  ■"'  --' 

the  httle  vessel  duzily  .s  the  wind  raeed  her  alon. 
The  eommander  and  the  master  stood  close  together' 
by  the  tdler.  The  night  was  so  black  that  theyl,uld 
not  see  each  other's  face. 

th7-  Tu   ??"'  ^'""^  e-^Pe<^ted?"  asked  Drurie,  after 
the  w.nd  had  been  uj^n  them  for  several  minutes. 

"  I '-  arH        7  """  '  "^'P"^^' '"  ^-^P'^^^  Danvers. 
I  reared  a  gale- an  1  from  the  north." 


^Mi;^ 


The  Ice-floe 


237 


Half  aji  hour  later  Dan  vers  spoke  again.  "  It  will 
blow  strc  „'er,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  core  to  it.  I 
felt  it  all  day,  and  now  I  hear  it." 

A  gray,  ragged  rift  of  dawn  was  breaking  in  front  of 
their  pitching  jibboom  when  the  thing  which  the  master 
vas  watching  for  finally  reached  them.  That  the 
immense  draft  of  wind  which  had  been  pressing  them 
along  for  the  last  eight  hours  could  increase  in  either 
weight  or  speed  was  a  miracle  to  Drurie. 

It  fell  upon  them  as  soUd  as  water,  crushing  the 
stout  little  hull  deep  into  the  eager  sea,  and  then  hurling 
her  on  her  course  like  a  plaything.  Drurie  was  spun 
against  the  after-companion.  He  lay  there  for  a 
minute,  gripping  at  whatever  he  touched  with  hands 
and  feet. 

Dan\'ers  stooped  and  roared  into  his  ear :  "  She'll 
weather  it.  She  be  too  quick  for  the  seas  to  override 
her.    'Tuill  blow  itself  out  in  an  hour  or  two." 

Drurie  pulled  himself  to  his  feet  and  stood,  clinging 
to  the  hutch  of  the  companion,  until  the  terror  of  this 
madness  of  wind  and  wave  lifted  from  his  spirit. 
He,  too,  had  feh  the  nameless  fear  of  the  North.  Then 
he  went  below. 

As  Danvers  had  said,  the  storm  eased  its  fury  within 
two  hours  of  its  supreme  eFort;  but  it  continued  to 
blow  at  half  a  gale  unlil  noon.    Every  member  of  the 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


b  gs  compaay  fd,  a  relaxing  of   strained  nerves. 

:"  "  r^'f "'  "'   'h^-  ™rk,  and  ,he  v.a.ch  bdow 
nslead  of  sleeping,  dustcrcd  a!»,u,  ,l,e  b,,,,-,  „f  j,, ! 

"'■^■^    and    san,    .ad.i.ais    and    decp-sei 

The  adventurers  aft  lolled  in  the  pale  sttnli.hf 
an  Cremona,  feeling  no  need  for  his  stc.,.  sn»u5^a 
roll  of  lobaceo  and  gave  ear  to  Prowse's  ehaf.er  about 
a  gtrl  .n  dtstant  Devon.  Drurie  and  the  master  wen, 
below  and  sank  to  dreamless  slumber 

ottf  H  ""r".  "1  ""^ ''"»  P^"'^"'  '  """""^^  "f  inlands 
of  naked  rock,  pmk  and  purple  in  the  failing  li.ht     An 

easy  drat,  of  wind  drifted  out  of  the  north,  and  intense 
CO  d  fil  ed  t  e  air.    The  hrst  mate,  who  was  on  du.v 
made  all  sa  ,  eager  ,o  dear  the  Cape  of  God  and  wm 
mto  the  wtde  .Atlantic  before  the  ice  should  close  the 
cas  e,-n  gate  of  the  passage.    The  men  who  had  t,.e 
deck  put  on  thdr  heavies,  clothing,  and  great  mittens 
of  wool  on  thdr  hands. 
Next  morning  a  thin  edge  of  ice,  about  six  inches 

InfheldT"";!  ""  ™"-""'^  "'  ""  ^"■•5-    The  wind 
s  .11  held  from  the  north,  quiet  and  steadv  as  a  current 

0   ,cy  water.    The  sea  rolled  gently,  without  a  break 

o    wh„c^  and  the  brig  swept  smoothly  and  silemlv 

*ng.    Cape  of  God  loomed  ahead,  cmuched  forward 

as  .f  ready  to  hurl  itself  into  the  path  of  the  little  vessel 


f^j^um','ti:?^(^Km'.^ff^''m^4%'m= 


The  Ice-floe 


239 


The  crew  was  set  to  breaking  away  the  fringe  of  ice 
with  poles  and  oars.  The  thin  crystal  shattered  and 
vanished  at  a  touch;  and  yet,  grown  a  little  thicker, 
it  would  support  a  running  man,  and  a  little  thicker 
again  it  would  stop  the  onward  rush  of  a  forging 
ship. 

By  sunset  the  Brave  Adventure  was  abreast  of  the 
soaring  cape.  Danvers  held  her  well  up  to  the  wind, 
away  from  the  formidable  wall  and  its  hidden  out- 
posts, where  white  spray  leai^ed  from  the  smooth 
sea. 

Before  dawn  a  flurry  of  snow  passed  over  the  brig. 
This  was  followed  by  a  fog,  that  only  whitened  a  little 
as  the  hours  passed.  The  gentlemen  were  at  breakfast, 
with  candles  on  the  table  and  a  lantern  hanging  steady 
from  the  deck-beam  overhead,  when  Danvers  entered 
the  cabin,  threw  aside  his  cloak,  and  sat  down. 

"  We  are  in  the  edge  of  slob  ice,"  he  said.  "  But 
it  does  not  matter  now.  Even  if  it  tightens  around  us, 
it  is  clear  of  any  land,  and  will  do  no  more  than  drift 
us  southward  a  trifle.  As  we  are  well  away  from  the 
coast  of  Labrador,  that  will  do  no  harm." 

"  Heaven  be  thanked  for  letting  us  out  of  the  narrow 
waters,"  said  Drurie. 

"  Aye,  praise  be  to  His  name."  returned  Danvers 
reverenti}-.     Then  he  ate  heartil}-,  drank  deep,  and 


^-i-c^^mrr 


HI 
lii  i 


240 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


laughed  and  talked  with  the  air  of  a  man  ^vho  has  felt 

a  great  shadow  slip  from  his  spirit. 
AH  day  the  fog  shrouded  them;    the  sails  swelled 

for  a  moment  from  yard  and  stay  only  to  flap  and  sa- 
agam;  the  thin  fragments  of  ice,  broken  from  some 
northern  coast,  knocked  against  the  brig's  sides  and 
clung.  In  spite  of  the  gloom,  a  spirit  of  serenity  and 
security  hung  over  the  little  vessel,  soothing  the  hearts 
of  her  company. 

Clear  of  threatening  rocks  and  the  northern  fast- 
nesses, with  the  wide  ocean  on  every  side,  what  mattered 
a  few  days  of  southward  drifting  in  the  mild  bondage 
of  this  thin  ice?  The  gentlemen  played  at  cards  in  the 
warm,  candle-lighted  cabin;  and  even  Drurie  and 
Danvers  felt  free  to  take  an  occasional  hand.  \nd  so 
the  day  passed,  and  the  fog  darkened  from  white  to 
black  again. 

That  night,  a  wonderful  dream  came  to  Francis 
Drurie.  It  was  as  if  he  opened  his  eves  from  a  deep 
sleep  and  looked  between  the  curtains  of  his  berth 
into  his  cabin.  By  the  faint  light  of  the  lantern 
hanging  over  the  table,  he  saw  a  human  ficrure  standing' 
silent  and  dim  as  a  shadow.  Now,  this  inner  cabin 
v>as  his  own,  and  even  the  master  entered  it  only  by 
his  invitation. 

He  leaned  upon  his  elbow  and  stared  out,  wondering 


The  Ice-floe 


241 


if  one  cf  his  gentlemen  had  come  to  speak  to  him. 

But  he  could  not  make  llie  iigure  out. 
"Who  is  there?"  he  asked  quietly. 
At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  the  figure  moved 

toward  him.    It  was  a  woman !    It  was  Isobcl! 
"  Do  not  fear,"  said  the  dear  voice,  of  which  not  a 

tone  had  faded  from  his  heart.  "  I  have  come,  in  my 
dream,  to  teU  you  that  I  still  live  and  wait  for  you. 
The  path  to  me,  dearest,  is  one  of  duty  well  done,  and 
bitter  sufferings,  and  hoping  against  hope." 

And  then,  in  the  silence  that  followed,  the  vision 
of  the  girl  faded  away.    Drurie  ;ould  not  move  or  call 
her  name.    He  struggled  to  get  out  of  his  berth,  but 
it  seemed  that  invisible  barriers  held  him.     At  last, 
in  the  agony  of  his  futile  efforts,  he  opened  his  eyes! 
So  —  it  was  only  a  dream,  after  all.      But  what  a 
dream!    To  Drurie,  the  hand  of  God  was  in  it.    He 
was  not  a  man  of  prayer,  but  God  was  a  very  real 
Being  to  him.     He  slipped  from  his  berth  and  thanked 
God  on  bended  knees.     The  knowledge  that  bitter 
sufferings  were  to  be  his  dimmed  neither  his  gratitude 
nor  his  joy. 

By  morning  the  brig  was  firm  in  the  grip  of  the 
drifting  floe.  Fog  still  shrouded  the  sea".  Drurie's 
comrades  saw  the  new  light  in  his  eves,  and  wondered 
if  he  had  suddenly  forgotten  his  grief.     He  told  of  his 


-  ».  is 


242 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


dream  to  Dick  and  Cremona,  and  both  accepted  the 
meanmg  of  it  without  question.  They  found  no  difH- 
cult,v  m  bchevmg  it  to  be  a  message,  and  so  they 
rejoiced  ;Mth  their  commander. 


."id 


CHAPTER  XX 

DENIS  ST.   OVIDE   DUVAL 

It  happened  that  a  famous  Canadian,  known  by  the 
style  and  name  of  Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval, 
encountered  the  same  fog-bank  and  the  same  ice-floe 
in  which  the  Brave  Adventure  drifted  blindly. 

Duval  was  one  of  England's  most  exasperating 
tormentors  in  the  north,  from  New  England  to  Acadia 
and  Newfoundland.  In  time  of  war  he  was  a  privateer, 
and  in  time  of  peace  a  pirate.  English  commerce  wa^ 
always  his  target.  His  delight  was  to  strike  a  blow  at 
the  power  of  that  lion-hearted  little  island,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  fill  his  pockets  with  such  treasure  as  the 
moth  of  pleasure  and  the  rust  of  sea-winds  destroy. 

He  was  a  strange  mixture  of  soldier  and  ruffian, 
gentleman  and  knave.  There  was  some  mystery  about 
his  birth.  He  claimed  V  ^\p  with  several  great 
families;  but,  whether  because  of  his  naval  acti\ities 
in  times  of  peace  or  for  another  reason,  he  was  avoided 
by  the  members  of  these  same  families.  It  was  a 
weU-known  fact  that  the  Ad-niral   St.  Ovide  would 

248 


-1  1 


244 


ATavalier  of  Virginia 


never  mvue  hm.  to  ..  much  as  a  gla.s  cf  wine;  and 
yet  the  two  h.d  ^ough.  their  ships  side  by  side  agains, 
the  forts  of    h.    'arb.ur  of  St.   John's.     He  ts  a 
strange    fellov.      ,..    .^..^^    ^j,,,^^       ^^^^^    ^^.^^ 
wished  to  sec   ..nly  :he  bad  blood  in  hi.n  could  not 
Ignore  the  go,>a     aaJ  taosc  whr.  wished  to  see  onl    the 
good  were  remin,  i.d,        .  frequently,  of  the  bad.  '  But 
whatever  h:s  fu  Its  in  h..r.  and  breeding,  he  w.«  a 
brave  and  brilliant  comuaader  and  a  capable  navi- 
gator.  ^ 

Denis  St.  0^  icie  Duval  had  '    ard  of  the  nr.,-  English 
post  in  the  northern  wildernes.,  from  a  French  trapper, 
and  he  had  put  a  fine  plan  together,     rfe  would  .lip 
mto.that  northern  sea  just  as  the  armed  ..p.  of  the 
Royal  Company  slipped  out,  an  '  take  (he  forr,  and 
scndc   there  comfortabiy  for  the  vanter.      By  sprinrr 
he  shoul :!   have  ^•aluable  cargoes  for  his  to  vessels 
and  prisoners  for  Quebec,  to  say  nothin,  of  the  glorv 
of  leaving  a  Canadian  garrison  in    the  fort  and'  th^ 
I"   ;ich  flag  flapping  above  its  walls.     fM.relv,  for  .uch 
a  service,  the  king  could  not  ,!o  less  than  make  hi:n 
governor  of  all  that  vast  wilderness,  with  a  percentage 
from  every  pelt  taken  in  trad,  there.    Then  he  should 
ha.-e  the  langh  on  his  I^aughty  cusin,  th,-  admiral. 

\Vith  his  head  full  .  f  such  hne  intenti<  .s  had  Duval 
headed  northward  along  the  cast  of  L.orador  at  that 


Denis  St    Ovide  Duval 


345 


late  season.  Iniiler  :icn  might  have  waited  for  spring; 
but  Duval  was  tiot  dull.  Yrt  the  fog  an  '  the  ice  nlayed 
him  a  trick, 

Shonly  after        n,  jjst  ^,  th  of   the  Brave 

Advertur,  wen  .,  urnin-  t!  -ir  cmmy  plates  and 
canniKins  m  the  galley,  ng  f,  veil  on  pea  soup 
and  rr;t,tcu   vensioi     a  li  ind     prang   up 

in  the  wet.    ^hcfoghn.K*  ^gu       ay  — and 

there,  K.,  foi  hund  i  yar.  s&a..  ward  he  brig, 
Ie}    wo  \essel- in  th        ^  o\     e  ice. 

Anrd  '  w-      ,uuted  into  the  cabin  and  the 

forecastle.    In  x  i\        -ng  every  adventurer  and  mariner 
'■as  on    ieck,  gai    ig  at  the  unexpected  sight.     Th- 
mastv  looked  i<      a  moment  and  turned  to  DruHr 


with  ^      xprob 

'ItisD 
them  before 
schof     r  hiri.st 


f  concern  on  his  face. 
.  C     adian,"  he  said.     "  I've  seen 
.  and    un  from  them.    He  sails  the 
and  wc  call  it  the  Black  Det'll.    The 
attle  b:    antini    was  an  English  craft  once." 

'  L'      il!  "  exclaimed  the  commander.    "  Lord,  but 

I    oula  oe  afine  thing  to  sink  both  Us  .hipsfor  him." 

Danvcr      mikd  without  enthusiasm.    "  Aye,  and  a 

ard  th  .-::-      '       epHed.     "  Both  vessels  are  armed 

like  v.ar-shi         What  I  am  thinkin'  is,  'twould  be  a 

fine  thing  to  be  able  to  break  out  of  this  ice  and  show 

'em  our  heels.     Two  to  one  makes  rare  good  sport, 


'  i 


.MMiMi 


246 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


';|. 


to  my  mind,  with  a  good  sailin'  wind  and  a  free  keel; 
but  plugged  here  in  the  ice,  'twiU  be  nothing  but  gun- 
play. The  ways  of  powder  and  shot  are  as  Fate 
intended  them,  and  a  cannon  fired  by  a  fool  shoots 
as^  far  as  one  fired  by  a  master-gunner;  but  pretty 
sailin'  gives  the  ship  and  the  master  a  chance  to  work 
together  and  confound  the  enemy." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Drurie;  "  but,  as  we  cannot 
do  any  fine  sailing,  as  we  did  against  Black  Tvlonk, 
we  must  do  fine  shooting.  There  is  nothing  else  for 
it,  if  those  ships  in  truth  belong  to  Duval." 

As  yet,  they  could  see  no  sign  of  life  aboard  the 
schooner  and  the  brigantine.    The  guns  of  the  Brave 
Adventure  were  cleared  for  action.    Powder  and  baU, 
canister  and  grape,  were  carried  up  from  the  magazines' 
and  the  men  went  to  their  posts.    They  went  to  their 
posts  laughing  and  joking,  poor  fellows,  full-fed  and 
afraid  of  no  Frenchman  under  the  sun.    They  did  not 
give  a  thought  to  the  fact  that  this  fight  was  to  be  a 
simple  and  terrible  matter  of  give  and  take,  with  the 
same  broadsides  belching  all  through,  and  no  help 
from  the  wits  and  skill  ci  Master  Danvers  and  the 
speed  and  handiness  of  the  brier 

The  red  ensign  was  run  up;  and,  as  if  the  halyards 
were  hauled  by  the  same  hands,  up  went  the  white 
flag  of  France  on  both  the  enemies. 


.aU~ri--5S^.. 


^ 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval 


247 


The  brigantine  lay  sidc-on  to  the  English  brig,  and 
the  schi  oner,  lying  farther  to  the  south  and  east, 
presented  her  bows  to  the  brig's  port  bow.  Northward, 
the  ice  ran  silver  and  shining  under  the  sun  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see.  To  the  west,  east,  and  south  it 
extended  for  only  a  mile  or  so,  and  lively  little  seas 
danced  about  the  edges  of  it. 

"I  would  the  fog  had  not  lifted,"  said  Danvers 
earnestly. 

As  yet,  no  sign  o."  life,  beyond  the  flying  of  the  flags, 
had  apjjcarcd  on  either  of  th<  French  ships.  Drurie 
set  his  men  to  shifting  the  big  guns.  Tno  on  the  port 
broadside  v.ere  moved  forward  and  trained  on  the 
schooner,  and  the  other  two  were  run  across  the  deck 
to  reenforce  the  starboard  battery.  The  swivels  from 
the  stern  were  hauled  forward  and  mounted  on  the 
forecastlehcad,  beside  the  long  bow-chaser.  By  this 
arrangement,  six  heavy  pieces  were  brought  to  bear 
on  the  brigantine  and  three  heavy  pieces  and  the  two 
swivels  on  the  schooner.  Many  of  the  bales  of  pelts 
were  thrown  up  from  the  hold  and  lashed  round  the 
batteries,  mside  the  bulwarks. 

Already  the  brief  northern  day  was  drawing  to  its 
close.  A  look  of  relief  began  to  spread  upon  the 
master's  broad  face. 

''  There'll  not  be  much  damage  done  in  the  dark," 


W 


^. 


248 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


he  said,  "  and  the  floe  may  break  by  morning.    Then 
if  ye  want  a  fight,  the  little  lady  will  make  a  pretty 
fight;  and  if  ye  want  to  get  away,  she'll  flap  her  skirts 
at  those  water-logged,  unhandy  arks." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  the  floe  will  break,"  replied 
Drurie;  "  but  I  am  troubled  now  to  know  how  I  can 
keep  the  Frenchmen  from  crossing  the  ice  during  the 
night  and  boarding  us.  No  doubt  both  ships  are 
heavily  manned." 

"  The  first  broadside  will  splinter  the  ice  for  yards 
on  every  side  of  us,"  answered  the  master.  "  They'U 
have  to  use  their  boats  to  come  aboard  us." 

"  Then  the  sooner  we  spUnter  a  little  ice  the  better  " 
said  Drurie.  ' 

He  went  to  the  forward  battery  and  saw  the  gunners 
tram  their  pets  on  the  narrow  bows  of  the  schooner. 
Next  moment,  the  five  pieces  crashed  with  a  deafening 
report,  and  the  brig  surged  backward  and  crumpled 
the  ice  for  a  yard  or  more  under  her  stern.  The  smoke 
drifted  over  the  deck,  shutting  the  scnooner  off  from 
the  gunners'  view. 

Before  the  wind  had  blown  it  away,  the  reenforced 
battery  to  starboard  crashed  like  one  gigantic  gun 
Beneath  that  choking  pall  of  smoke  the  men  toiled 
frantically,   swabbing  and   loading,   though   they  ex- 
pected the  deadly  tempest  of  the  French  reply  at  any 


Jtmsr. 


•jems 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval 


249 


moment.  The  yards  creaked,  and  the  brig  rocked  in 
her  basin  of  shattered  ice.  The  smoke  thinned;  and 
at  the  very  moment  of  the  second  discharge  of  the 
forward  battery,  the  schooner  and  the  briga^tine  sent 
their  answers. 

Two  men  were  struck  down  by  the  canister  from  the 
brigantine,  the  capstan  was  hit  by  a  round-shot  from 
the  schooner,  and  a  great  lump  of  oak  and  iron  was 
hurled  through  the  breast  of  one  of  the  gunners. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  battle  raged,  heroic,  appalling, 
cruel.  Then  darkness  silenced  the  guns.  The  Brave 
Adventure  had  sufTered  terribly.  Young  Prowse  died 
as  many  .mother  Prowse  has  died  before  and  since 
this  unrecorded  battle  in  the  northern  ice. 

Dick  -as  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  seriously. 
Danvers's  left  arm  was  blown  away  at  the  elbow, 
Tizard  lay  stunned  by  a  flying  splinter,  and  Drurie' 
had  received  two  flesh-wounds.  One  of  the  master- 
gunners  and  nine  of  the  crew  lay  dead,  and  five  more 
were  seriously  torn  or  broken. 

Cremona,  who  had  worked  in  the  most  exposed 
places  throughout  the  fight  and  yet  had  escaped  without 
a  scratch,  >  showed  a  useful  knowledge  of  surgery. 
•Assisted  b:  ;  .rie.  Duff,  and  the  uninjured  men,  he 
cut  and  batned  and  bandaged  swiftly  and  tenderly. 
The  wounded  men  were  carried  below.     Rum  was 


i  I 


sH?5^^^ 


250 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


|l^- 


served  to  all  hands,  and  a  hearty  meal  was  eaten  the 
wounded  men  being  fed  by  their  more  fortunate 
comrades.  Then  the  sentries  were  posted  for  the  fir=t 
watch  of  the  night. 

The  brig  had  suffered  as  terribly  as  her  brave  com- 
pany.   Her  foremast  was  a  wreck,  her  bulwarks  were 
slmttered,  and  two  of  her  heavy  guns  were  disabled. 
The  forecastle  was  battered  and  splintered,  and  the 
bowspnt  carried  clccn  away.    A  dozen  great  shot  were 
odged  m  the  stout  timbers  of  her  hull,  and  several 
had  entered  her  hold  dangerously  near  the  waterline 
The  men  of  the  brig  could  not  see  what  damage  had 
been  done  to  the  French  vessels.    During  the  fight,  the 
hangmg  smoke  had  allowed  them  but  brief  glimpses  of 
their  targets;  and  by  the  time  the  smoke  had  cleared 
Jt  was  night.    But  they  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
bngantine  was  in  a  bad  state,  for  her  fire  had  slackened 
by  r.alf   before   the  end   of  the   engagement.     For- 
tunately, the  night  was  dark  and  there  was  no  moon 

Drune's  heart  was  all  but  broken  by  the  death  of 
Lawrence  Prowse  and  his  brave  men,  and  the  suffering 
.of  the  wounded;  and,  for  all  his  courage,  he  could  see 
no  hope  for  the  morrow  unless  a  strong  wind  rose  in 
the  night.  Even  with  the  ice  broken,  it  was  doubtful 
whether  the  brig  would  be  able  to  escape  from  the 
schooner  in  her  shattered  condition.    Unable  to  sleep 


m^^^s^m 


Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval 


251 


he  spent  the  whole  night  in  wandering  from  one  part 
of  the  brig  to  another,  now  pausing  to  ease  the  position, 
or  give  water,  to  one  of  the  wounded,  and  again  to 
speak  a  word  of  encouragement  to  the  men  still  on 
duty. 

To  his  o^vn  wounds  he  gave  not  a  thought,  though 
both  -.vere  deep  and  painful.  He  had  washed  and  bound 
them  soon  after  the  firing  had  ceased  —  and  that  was 
the  last  attention  he  had  given  them.  But  Dick's, 
Tizard's,  and  Danvers's  injuries  worried  him  beyond 
expression.  He  had  earned  Dick  to  his  own  berth 
in  the  inner  cabin.  Aheady,  before  midnight,  the  poor 
lad  was  delirious  from  the  agony  of  shattered  shoulder 
and  bruised  chest.  Danvers,  also,  was  growing  Ught- 
headcd  from  intense  suffering,  and  Tizard  still  lay 
unconscious,  breathing  heavily.  There  was  not  a 
corner  of  the  little  vessel  free  from  death  or  agony. 

Drurie  was  standing  on  the  forecastle-head,  leaning 
on  one  of  the  cannon,  with  his  face  sunk  on  his  folded 
arms,  when  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  This  very  bad,"  said  the  voice  of  Cremona.  "  I 
don't  smile  at  you  crying,  Frank,  for  I  cry  myself  at 
this.  I  see  plenty  of  men  dead  before  now;  but  not 
men  I  love.  Dick  wiU  die,  I  think.  God,  I  love  him 
like  a  mother  and  a  father!  Now,  you  let  me  tie  your 
leg  again." 


i    i- 
%    f 


r 
,-»■ 


'^£.i^^^mr^ 


i    iiJ 

■f 


252 


i 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


But  Francis  Druric  would  not  hear  of  that.  His 
leg  was  not  hurting  him  He  had  lost  a  pint  or  so  of 
blood  -  that  was  all.  He  urged  Cremona  to  lie  down 
and  try  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep. 

"  No;  I  sleep  soon  enough  for  a  vcrv  long  time, 
perhaps,"  replied  Cremona.  "  See,  the  wind  is  dead 
and  the  air  is  clear.  Soon  the  sun  will  come  up  — 
and  then  we  begin  loading  and  fuing  again.  No, 
Frank;  \\e  better  stay  awake  now,  for  we  alfsleep  soon 
enough,  I  think." 

"  As  Heaven  wills,"  replied  Drurie  quietlv.  "  Better 
men  than  I  am -and  maybe  as  good  m'cn  as  you, 
Cremona  — have  died  this  way." 

"  You  think  me  a  good  man,  Frank  ?  "  a.s::ed  Cre- 
mona  carnestlv. 

"  One  of  the  best,"  answered  Drurie  shortly. 

Cremona  made  no  reply,  but  a  fine  elation'of  spirit 
went  through  him  like  fire.  He  had  Uved  a  hard  life, 
and  had  been  a  low  rogue  in  his  time;  but  here  was  a 
fine  ending.  He  had  been  born  into  the  world  among 
cnmmals  and  outcasts;  and  now  he  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  death,  a  gentleman  among  gentlemen, 
a  worthy  member  of  a  gallant  company. 

Without  another  word  the  two  parted,  the  heart  of 
each  warm  with  admiration  and  a!Tection  for  the 
other.     Drurie  went  into  the  forecastle  to  tend    the 


ri 


Denis  St  Ovide  Duval 


253 


sufferers  there,  and  Cremona  hurried  back  to  the 
wounded  men  in  the  cabin.  Tizard  passed  away 
without  a  struggle,  or  without  once  having  regained 
consciousness,  an  hour  before  dawn.  Cremona  and  the 
commander  stitched  him  in  his  canvas  shroud  with 
their  own  hands,  with  a  round-sliot  at  his  feet.  The 
thin  ice,  which  had  formed  again  since  the  guns  had 
ceased  their  recoiling,  shattered  as  he  went  through. 
Down  he  sank  through  the  cold  depths,  to  where  his 
comrade  Prowsc  and  a  brave  company  awaited  him, 
all  lying  still  and  blind  on  the  sea-floor,  heedless  of 
ambition  or  duty  until  the  call  to  the  last  parade. 


■  J 

Si,     *. 

JEl.     -  * 


f  ■■ 


CHAPTER  XXr 

THE  BRAVE  ADVENTTOE  SUNK 

A  CLEAR  dawn  heralded  ,hc  lost  day  of  that  heroic 

but  nameless  battle.    By  the  firs.  ,i,J  Drurie  .ooTe^ 

a    h,»  enemies  m  wonder.     The  white  huU  of  the 

hnganune  was   shattered   and    stained   with   blood 

:      ""',?'  ''"  'P"'  '^  standing,  and  she  lay  with 

a  .^harp  hst  to  s.arteard.    The  sch«,ner  was  no^to 

fenou.ly  jnjured.  but  her  great  foremast  lay  on  th" 

-.  a,t  dear,  and  her  bows  were  riddled  with  shol 

Driirie  called  his  men  together. 

shin'br!''", '"'  '""■  "  ""  '"'™  '""Sht  our  guns  and  our 
sh,p  bra^vly  enough;    but  the  odds  were  against  us 

:„: ;  "t  """  "^'  "'^'-  -  ^'■"- 1  spea\  z: 

f,r  ™        ^^"^^'■"^"'""'^''i'^ty.    I  am  ready  to 
%h.  agam    or  to  surrender.    What  is  your  wish  in 

the  matter  ? "  ^  ^" 

be,'!  ^l  "l  '^^^'  "  "'"'  ""''"^^  o'  ""^  ra™.    "  We'd 
better  dte  fightin'  than  be  hung  to  the  yard-arm." 

254 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk 


"233 


"  Aye,  sir,  this  here  Duval  don't  care  what  he  do 
to  prisoners  when  he  be  in  a  temper,"  said  the  boat- 
swain. "  Let  us  fight  it  out,  sir;  and  if  we  die  -why, 
sir,  we've  ail  to  come  to  it  some  day." 

That  suited  every  man  aboard,  sound  and  wounded. 
They  had  no  desire  for  Canadian  prisons,  or  for  ending 
a  good  fight  by  kicking  their  heels  at  the  end  of  a 
rope.  Each  man  drank  a  measure  of  rum  after  his 
breakfast,  and  then  went  wilUngly  but  stolidly  to  his 
post. 

The  sun  slid  up,  clear  as  glass,  but  without  warmth. 
Such  wind  as  there  was  crept  cheeriessly  out  of  the 
northwest,  over  miles  of  frozen  sea.      The  air  was 
bitterly  cold.    The  cold  alone  was  enough  to  chill  the 
courage  of  brave  men,  but  the  lads  of  the  brig  stood 
to   their  guns  and  gazed   unconcernedly  across   the 
glistening  ice  to  the  silent  ships  of  the  enemy.     But 
those  ships  did  not  remain  silent  for  long  after  the 
rising  of  the  sun.    The  schooner  reopened'' the  battle 
with  a  discharge  of  grape  that  flew  high.    The  brig 
repUed  with  both  her  batteries,  and  the  horrible  tight 
was  on  again. 

Through  a  rift  in  the  cloud  of  smoke,  Drurie  saw 
men  running  away  from  the  brigantine  across  the  ice. 
Thinking  they  were  preparing  to  board  the  brig,  he 
swept  them  with  canister.     The  survivors  mad'e  all 


?.56 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


11^ 

■  If 
f  I 


s:>cerl  to  the  schooner.    They  were  not  manv.    When 
tiie  smoke  thinned  again  the  brigantine  had 'vanished 
an,'!  only  a  pool  of  gray,  dancing  water  was  where  she' 
i:'i:l  been. 

The  last  charge  of  powder  aboard  the  Brave  Advm- 
t::rc  had  been  fired.    She  was  settling  steadily  by  the 
head.     Drurie  wiped  the  blood  from  his  eyes  and 
looked  round  him.     He  saw  a  few  men  leaning  Ust- 
lessly   against   the  silent   guns,   and   many  sprawled 
upon  the  deck.    The  fight  was  over  -  and  lost.    Again 
blood  trickled  into  his  eyes.    Then  he  saw  Cremona, 
and  felt  him  press  something  into  place  upon  his  fore- 
head and  tie  a  cloth  around  it.    Without  a  word  he 
turned  and  walked  aft,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was 
about.    In  the  cabin  he  found  both  Dick  and  Danvers 
dead.     He   touched  their  cold  calm  faces  with  his 
hands. 

He  saw  Cremona  enter,  kneel  beside  Dick's  bodv 
and  fling  his  arms  forward.  He  heard  the  big  man 
v.eep.  He  turned  away  and  went  on  deck;  and  close 
beside  the  stump  of  the  mainmast  he  stumbled  over 
Duff's  lifeless  body.  What  were  these  strange  beings 
clustering  about  him,  with  blood  and  sweat  and  powder- 
stams  on  their  grotesque  faces?  Ah!  Thev  were  his 
own  men  -  his  own  brave  lads!  There  was  Nicholas, 
NMth  a  bandage  of  sodden  cloth  over  half  his  face 


if 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         257 


lie  counted  them  slowly.  Ten!  Yes,  ten  was  all  he 
could  make  of  them,  and  three  were  on  their  hands  and 
knees. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  "  the  fight  is  finished." 
He  drew  his  sword  and  tried  to  break  it  across  his 
knee;  but  the  good  blade  was  too  tough  for  his  nerve- 
less muscles. 

"  Let  me  do  it,"  said  Cremona.  So  he  broke  his 
commander's  sword,  and  then  his  owti,  and  tossed  the 
bright  pieces  into  the  scuppers.  At  that  moment 
Duval  and  twenty  of  his  Canadians  cUmbed  over  the 
side  cf  the  Brave  Adveriure. 

Duval's  dark  face  was  flushed  with  anger.  He  glared 
at  Cremona. 

"  Do  ycu  surrender?  "  he  asked. 
•'  This  gentleman  is  the  commander,"  said  Cremona, 
indicating  Drurie. 

■  Well,  my  fine  little  cock,  have  you  had  enough?  " 
cried  the  Canadian. 

This  manner  of  address  clearer  Drurie's  brain. 

"I  am  ready  to  give  myself  and  my  men  up  to 
Captain  Duval,  but  not  to  his  boatswain,"  he  said. 

"I  am  Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval,"  replied 
the  other,  more  gently. 

"  A  man  of  honourable  family,  I  have  heard.  Well, 
sir,    I    surrender    Captain    Cremona,   my   men,    and 


u 


258 


g^8  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


myself  10  you  as  prisoners  of  war,"  said  Drurie  His 
clear  blue  eyes  gazed  steadily  and  fearlessly  upon  the 
Canadian,  with  a  li^ht  in  them  that  was 'enough  to 
shame  the  devil  himself. 

It  shamed  Duval,  whom  no  bluster  could  disconcert 
It  appealed  to  that  better  part  of  his  nature  that  came 
to  him  from  hundreds  of  valiant  men  and  beautiful 
women.     He  turned  to  the  men  behind  him  and  spoke 
to  them  swiftly,  for  a  little  while,  in  the  French  tongue. 
Four  of  the  Canadians  began  to  lead  the  survivors 
of  the  crew  of  the  Brave  Adventure  across  the  deck 
two  by  two.    They  carried  those  who  were  unabl-^  to' 
walk.     They  loweral  them  all  into  a  boat  that  lay 
among  the  broken  ice  under  the  brig's  side.     Drurie 
and  Cremona  were  not  disturbed, 

Duval  stood  beside  them  giving  orders  to  the  main 
body  of  the  force  he  had  brought  aboard  with  him 
The  cabm  was  looted,  and  bale  after  bale  of  the  cosMy 
furs  were  brought  up  from  the  hold.    The  brig  now 
was  deep  in  the  water,  and  sharply  sunk  by  the  head. 
AU  the  schooner's  boats  were  around  her,  havin<^  been 
dragged  across  the  ice  and  launched  into  the  narrow 
strip  of  water.     As  quickly  as  they  were  freighted 
from  the  brig's  cargo  they  were  pulled  to  the  solid  ice 
unloaded  and  pulled  back.    A  shiver  passed  through 
the  crippled  brig,  fore  and  aft.     Duval  shouted  to 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk         259 


liis    men,   and    those    below    quickly    scrambled  on 
deck. 

"  Come,  gentlemen."  he   aid  to  Drurie  and  Cremona. 

Drurie   was  helped  down  into  one  of  the   boats, 
for  now  his  wounds  were  stiffenbg.     All  the  boats 
were  pushed  quickly  to  the  ice  and  pulled  out  upon 
the  glistening  surface.    A  sound  like  a  sigh  came  from 
the  wounded  and  deserted  brig,  and  every  one  turned 
to  look  at  her.    She  swayed  gently  in  her  narrow  sea- 
bed.    Her  sunken  bows  seemed  to  lift  a  little,  then 
pitched  deep.    The  high  poop,  with  its  wide  ports  and 
gilded  scroll-work,  soared  aloft.    Left  by  an  oversight 
of  Duvr:"s,  the  red  ensign  flappt d  .  -  the  stump  of  the 
raainmasi      Amid  a  roaring  ar  .'   ;   rg.,.,-  of  waters 
the  Brave  Adventure  pitched  do   i    to  ]    ■  deep-sea 
grave.     A  few  shattered   and   bl     i -' .i-ed   timbers 
leaped  up  and  floated  on  the  surface  of  tne  ice-rimmed 

]X)Ol. 

A  surgeon  aboard  the  schooner  dressed  the  wounds 
of  Drurie  and  the  other  prisoners.  They  were  lowered 
into  the  hold,  after  the  bales  of  furs.  All  who  were  not 
disabled  by  th.  ir  injuries  were  put  in  irons.  The  hold 
was  warm  —  that  is,  the  amidships  part  of  it,  where  the 
prisoners  lav.  The  schooner  had  not  suffered  any- 
where but  in  her  bo  vs.  Two  lanterns  hung  from  the 
deck-beams,  and  made  blurs  in  the  yellow  gloom.    They 


f-f 


260 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


were  of  no  use  to  see  by,  but  they  cheered  the  eyes 
and  held  back  the  darkness. 

Soon  after  the  dressing  of  their  wounds  Drurie  and 
his  companions  fell  into  the  dreamless  sleep  of  utter 
exhaustion.  Only  their  wrists  were  shackled,  so  they 
could  lie  comfortably  in  any  position  that  suited  their 
aching  limbs. 

Drurie  was  awakened  by  the  touch  of  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  sleepily,  thinking  himself 
in  his  berth  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure. 

A  bowl  of  broth  was  placed  in  his  manacled  hands. 
Then  he  remembered  everything;  but  he  also  remem- 
bered the  vision  that  had  come  to  him  in  the  cabin  of 
the  brig.  By  the  dull  glow  of  the  lanterns  he  could 
make  out  the  figure  of  a  man  stooped  beside  him.  His 
stomach  yearned  for  the  broth  which  he  held  in  his 
hands. 

"  Are  my  men  fed  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  All  are  drinking  the  good  soup,  save  one  who 
died  while  you  slept,"  replied  the  voice  of  the  surgeon, 
in  English. 

"  Who  has  died?  "  asked  Drtrie. 

"  It  be  poor  Hipwood  has  passed  away,  sir,"  said 
one  of  the  men. 

Drurie  drank  his  broth,  which  was  rich  and  warm. 


to  the  last  drop  and  the  last  grain  of  barley.  The 
French  surgeon  continued  to  crouch  beside  him,  his 
imagination  captivated  by  the  courage  and  fortitude 
of  this  slender  young  Virginian. 

One  of  the  men  had  told  him  of  the  v.-ay  he  had 
received  Duval  aboard  the  sinking  brig  —  proud, 
cool,  and  fearless.  The  surgeon  was  a  good  deal  of  a 
coward  himself,  but  he  thought  courage  one  of  the 
highest  attributes  of  human  and  animal  nature.  He 
was  a  student  of  men,  and  fearlessness  in  the  face  of 
danger  was  one  of  the  things  he  could  not  understand. 
The  recklessness  of  rage  he  counted  a  small  matter. 
It  was  the  reasoning  courage  of  such  men  as  Drurie 
and  his  companions  that  attracted  and  puzzled  him. 
Now  he  waited,  in  silence,  beside  the  young  Virginian, 
until  the  bowl  was  empty.  Then  he  took  it  from  the 
manacled  hands, 

"  The  ice  is  breaking  away,"  he  said.  "  We  may 
be  clear  of  it  by  morning.  We  are  drifting  southward 
and  westward  fast." 

"  And  what  is  the  time  of  day?  "  asked  Drurie. 

"  It  is  now  about  three  hours  since  sunset,"  replied 
the  surgeon.  "  The  ca/penters  have  been  hard  at 
work  since  noon,  patching  the  hull  and  superstructure 
and  setting  up  a  new  spar  forward.  Your  guns  did 
terrific  damage,  captain." 


ggg  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


"They  did  what  they  could,"  said  Drurie.  And 
then :    •«  You  talk  like  an  Englishman,"  he  added. 

"  That  is  uot  to  be  wondered  at,"  replied  the  sur- 
geon, "  as  I  have  lived  in  both  England  and  one  of 
her  v.cstcrn  colonies.  My  mother  was  an  English- 
woman, and  I  was  brought  up,  as  a  child  and  youth, 
by  her  relatives.  Later  I  lived  for  several  years  in 
New  England.  But  my  heart  was  French  aJI  the 
whik-;  and,  in  time,  I  followed  my  heart.  But  teU 
me  of  yourself,  captain." 

"  There  is  Uttle  to  teU,"  said  Drurie,  with  a  note 
of  bitterness -or  was  it  only  weariness  — in  his 
voice.  "  I  am  a  Vuginian.  I  have  fought  against  the 
savages  there,  and  I  have  sailed  on  two  voyages  lo 
Hudson  Bay  as  commarder  of  the  Brave  Adventure  - 
the  brig  that  sank  to-day.  And  here  I  am,  sir.  It  is 
a  fine  history." 

"  It  is  a  brave  history,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

Francis  Drurie  lay  wide-awake  through  that  long 
night,  with  a  thousand  scenes  passing  and  repassing 
across  the  boundless  field  of  his  imier  vision.  It  was 
as  if  be  '.vatched  a  play  upon  a  stage  as  wide  as  earth 
fi.id  heaven. 

He  sa^v  the  Virginian  forests,  the  lodges  of  the 
savages,  and  the  weather-stained  militiamen  beside 
whom  he  had  ridden  and  fought.    Again  he  saw  the 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk 


!263 


autumn  groves  through  which  he  had  returned  to 
Admiral's  Pride;  and  again  he  heard  Isobel's  scng,  and 
overtook  her  in  the  path.  He  lived  through  that 
wonderful  time  again  —  the  night  of  the  ball  and  ths 
day  after. 

Men  of  Bristol  flocked  across  his  vision,  and  in- 
sig'  Meant  scraps  of  conversations  with  Smithers,  the 
merry  merchant,  flashed  clear  in  his  memory.  Again 
he  and  Dick  and  Cremona  travelled  in  Spain  to- 
gether; and  now  Dick  lay  under  ihe  gray  ice,  and 
Cremona  slept  here  in  the  hold  of  the  French  schooner, 
with  irons  on  his  great  wrists. 

Minute  by  minute  his  brain  went  over  ever}-  incident 
of  the  terrible  battle,  sparing  him  nothing,  'i.howing  him 
again  the  blood,  the  leaping  splinters,  the  falling  spars, 
and  the  limp  bodies  of  his  friends  and  comrades.  He 
wanted  to  sleep  —  to  forget  the  horror,  and  dream  only 
of  Virginia  and  Isob^!.  But  his  brain  was  too  active 
for  sleep.  Outraged  by  the  events  of  the  last  two 
days,  it  had  got  beyond  control  of  his  will.  After  it 
had  revievied  the  past,  it  turned  fearfully  to  the  future. 

What  was  to  become  of  them?  Did  Duval  intend 
to  sail  straight  to  Quebec,  and  imprison  them  there, 
or  would  he  takj  them  to  some  French  harbour  in 
Newfoundland  or  io  France? 

At  last  Drurie  crawled  over  and  awoke  Cremona. 


'^•\ 


264 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


M 


"I   cannot   sleep,"   he   whispered.       "My  brain   is 
on  fire.    Let  us  talk  for  a  little  while." 

"I  was  dreaming.  We  were  in  the  little  lugger 
again  — you  and  Dick  and  I  — sailing  along  in  the 
sunshine  over  that  blue  water,"  said  Cremona. 

"  No,  do  not  talk  of  those  things,"  pleaded  Druric. 
"  They  are  what  spin  in  my  mind  until  I  can  stand  no 
more.  Tell  me  of  things  and  people  I  do  not  know  — 
not  of  the  things  I  have  known  and  lost." 

"  I  will  tell  you  of  an  old  man  who  was  good  to  me 
long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  Cremona; 
and  he  told  of  his  first  voyage,  and  of  an  old  boatswain 
who  used  to  share  his  food  with  him,  and  comforl 
him  v.lien  others  were  cruel,  and  tell  him  wonderful 
stories. 

Cremona  went  on  from  speaking  of  the  boatswain 
to  reciting  some  of  those  long-forgotten  tales.  Drurie 
listened  eagerly.  Cremona's  voice  was  low  and  steady. 
Drurie's  eyelids  closed,  and  opened  quicklv.  Yes,  he 
had  heard  this  story  before,  long  ago,  from  his  mother. 
How  strange  and  comforting  it  was  to  hear  Cremona 
telling  it.  Again  his  eyes  closed.  And  when  the  men 
in  the  forecastle  were  just  beginning  to  stir,  and  the 
watch  on  deck  was  looking  eastward  at  the  dawn, 
Drurie's  tired  brain  fell  asleep. 

The  surgeon  appeared  early  in  the  prisoners'  quar- 


The  Brave  Adventure  Sunk 


265 


ters,  with  a  man  behind  him  carrying  food  and 
drink. 

He  found  that  another  of  the  wounded  Englishmen 
had  died  in  the  night.  He  awoke  Drurie  and  Cremona, 
who  were  sleeping  <"-.undly  side  by  side.  His  assistant 
aroused  the  others,  and  all  fell  heartily  to  the  business 
of  eating.  But  one  of  the  men  suddenly  became  uneasy 
and  began  to  feel  about  in  the  darkness  with  his  feet. 

"  Wake  up,  Jim,"  he  cried.  "  Ye  was  feelin'  better 
last  night.  Wake  up,  now,  an'  try  a  snack  o'  this  here 
salt  junk." 

"  My  lad,  your  friend  is  dead,"  said  the  surgeon. 
"  He  was  more  than  half  dead  when  he  was  brought 
aboard.    But  the  rest  of  you  will  Hve,  I  think." 

The  fellow  who  had  called  his  friend  to  'vake  up  and 
eat  trembled  \  iolcntl\ .  A  chill  passed  over  the  little 
company,  as  if  a  cold  wind  had  blown  upon  them. 

"Is  ii  Jim  Hawkins  who  i-  "one  now?"  asked 
Drurie. 

''  Ave.  -ir.  it  be  Jim  Hawkins  —  him  that  beat  us 
all  at  the  broadsword  play  at  the  fou,"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"  He  v>av  a  good  !ad,"  said  Drurie.  "  He  never 
s^hirkal  his  duty,  and  ho  died  without  a  cry.  He'll 
rest  cas}-.  lads,  and  go  to  a  sure  reward." 

The  men  returned  to  their  food  without  any  more 


£;L. 


266 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


V 


talk.  Death  had  lost  much  of  its  awesomencss  in  their 
eyes  of  late.  It  did  not  seem  such  a  terrible  matter, 
after  all,  here  in  the  hold  of  the  French  schooner, 
among  the  drifting  ice.  Neither  life  nor  death  seemed 
a  thing  worth  troubling  about  now.  Poor  old  Jim! 
Well,  he  was  past  suffering  now,  and  perhaps  well  clear 
of  what  was  to  come.  More  than  one  of  those  brave 
fellows  envied  the  dead  man  in  their  hearts. 


^ 


CHAPTER  XXII 


UNSUSPECTED  FATE 

On  the  day  of  Hawkins's  death,  and  after  the  body 
had  been  carried  up  and  pitched  into  the  sea,  Captain 
Duval  himself  descended  into  the  hold.  He  had  been 
in  a  terrible  temper  up  to  this  time;  and  so,  wishing  to 
appear  a  man  of  breeding  in  Drurie's  eyes,  had  kept 
away  from  his  prisoners. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  a  pirate,  he  had  reason 
to  feel  bad-tempered;  for  he  had  lost  a  vessel  and  forty 
men,  and  his  plans  for  the  winter  were  knocked  to 
ruins,  all  for  about  a  thousand  pounds*  worth  of  booty 
and  a  handful  of  prisoners.  And  the  English  fort  in 
the  wilderness  stood  unharmed,  flying  its  red  ensign 
at  the  winter  winds. 

All  this  was  a  sorry  blow  to  the  Canadian's  pride 
as  well  as  to  his  pocket.  But  he  regained  control  of 
his  temper  before  going  into  the  hold,  anxious  to 
convince  the  pale  young  gentleman  in  irons  that  he, 
toe,  was  a  gentleman. 

Duval  carried  an  extra  lantern  with  him,  and  squatted 

867 


268 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


\m 


^i..'. 


on  a  bale  of  skins  beside  Druric  and  Cremona.  "  I 
hope  you  have  been  comfortable  here,"  he  said,  as 
if  he  had  entertained  honoured  guests  in  his  best  bed- 
chamber. •'  And  I  hope  you  have  had  sufficient 
food." 

"  You  have  treated  us  with  exceptional  kindness,  and 
I  thank  you  for  it  in  all  our  names,"  replied  the  Vir- 
ginian. 

Duval  v.-as  flattered  by  this.  "  Some  commanders 
would  not  have  been  so  considerate,"  he  said.  "  But 
Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  is  a  gentleman.  Brave  him- 
self, he  respects  brave  men  —  even  if  they  have  sunk 
cne  of  his  ships  and  killed  forty  of  his  mariners." 

"  \\r  did  v.hat  vvc  could,  captain,"  replied  Drurie 
qulcll}-.  "  With  sea  room,  I  doubt  not  but  that  we 
should  have  sent  both  your  vessels  to  the  bottom  and 
killed  eighty  of  your  men." 

"Not  so  fast!"  cried  Duval.  Then  he  laughed, 
for  he  had  a  sense  of  humour.  "  You  are  outspoken, 
captain.    Your  spirit  is  amazing  high." 

■'  I  speak  what  I  think  —  and  my  spirit  is  as  Heaven 
made  it." 

"  'Tis  so  v-ith  all  of  us.  So  gentlemen  of  distin- 
guished fanii!}-  are  made.  But  your  friend  here.  Cap- 
tain Cremona,  says  nothing." 

"  When  I  talk,"  said  Cremona,  "  I  talk  to  a  purpose. 


Unsuspected  Fate 


269 


Will  you  tell  me  how  things  are  doing  up  in  daylight, 
Captain  Duval  ?  " 

"  The  ice  has  spread,"  replied  the  Canadian,  "  and 
we  arc  sailing  southward  very  pleasantly,  though  our 
rigging  is  not  what  it  was." 

"May  I  ask  what  you  intend  to  do  with  us?" 
inquired  Druric. 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you  at  present,"  said  Duval 
politely.  "  I  have  not  yet  decided.  If  St.  John's  were 
not  in  the  hands  of  the  English  again,  I'd  land  you 
there.  If  I  were  bound  for  Quebec,  I'd  take  you  to 
the  governor  there:  but  I  am  not.  As  it  is,  I  cannot  say 
what  I  shall  do  with  you;  but  you  may  be  sure  that 
v.-hilc  you  are  in  my  hands  you  shall  be  treated  with 
every  consideration  due  to  prisoners  of  war." 

Then  he  went  away  before  they  could  ask  him  any 
more  questions. 

Within  a  half-hour  of  his  visit,  a  small  measure  of 
fine  brandy  was  served  to  each  of  the  prisoners. 

"  I  think  this  Dmal  an  honest  fellow,"  said  Francis 
to  Cremona. 

Cremona  swallowed  the  last  drop  of  his  brandv 
before  replying.  Then  he  said :  "  I  think  he  ha-  an 
honest  side  to  him  —  and  another  side  that  is  not  so 
honest.  He  is  gentleman  now  —  rogue  to-morrow. 
Thai  is  what  I  hear.     He  haa  something  bad  in  his 


J270 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


III 


brain  even  while  he  talked  to  us  so  pc  lite.  I  could 
see  it  behind  his  eyes,  by  the  lanicrn-light.  I  think 
this  Duval  cares  greatly  for  \ou  to  think  him  all  gentle- 
man now ;  but  when  pu  no  longer  have  >our  eye  on 
him,  then  he  not  give  a  hang  what  you  think.  He  is 
a  vain  fellow,  but  he  knovss  his  betters." 

"  He  spoke  us  fairly  enough,  and  has  treated  us 
well,"  replied  Drurie. 

"I  fear,  Frank,  you  will  hear  him  speak  another 
tune  one  day,"  returned  Cremona.  "  The  gentleman 
in  him  will  be  weaker  than  the  rogue  one  fine  day  — 
and  then  you  will  want  to  break  his  head." 

"  We  must  take  a  little  trouble  to  humour  him,  my 
friend,"  said  Drurie. 

The  wounded  prisoners  regained  strength  day  by 
day.  Forticr,  the  surgeon,  attended  to  their  injuries 
with  honest  care,  and  was  proud  of  the  success  that 
cro^vned  his  work.  Only  young  Nicholas,  Drurie's 
servant,  seemed  to  hang  in  the  wind  in  the  matter  of 
recovery.  His  wound  had  not  been  more  severe 
than  the  wounds  of  others;  but  his  courage  failed  him 
at  thought  of  a  French  prison,  and  a  slow  fever  thinned 
his  blood. 

Now,  the  hatch  overhead  was  often  removed,  and 
left  off  throughout  the  heat  of  the  day,  letting  the 
fresh  wind  renew  the  aj-  and  lift  the  gloom  of  the  hold 


Unsuspected  Fate 


271 


At  the  first  sight  of  the  blue  sky  and  the  white  clouds 
(lri\ing  over,  hope  awoke  in  the  heart  of  every  man  of 
that  shackled  company.  Even  Nicholas  opened  his 
eyes  and  took  some  interest  in  the  things  of  the  present. 
As  for  the  others  — why,  it  was  like  morning  after  a 
night  of  despair. 

They  had  almost  become  convinced  that  the  whole 
world  was  dark,  faintly  lit  by  the  flames  of  two  tallow- 
dips  in  tin  lanterns.  They  had  aU  but  forgotten 
that  winds  blow  and  sails  are  spread  on  lively  yards 
and  clouds  voyage  across  the  dome  of  heaven.  For 
days  they  had  been  nothing  more  than  dreamers  of 
dull  dreams.  Now,  in  a  twinkling,  they  were  living 
sailors  again.  They  began  to  talk  of  gay  thmgs  they 
had  done,  at  one  time  and  another,  and  even  to  make 
light  of  French  prisons. 

Captain  Duval  did  not  visit  them  again;  but  on 
the  fourteenth  day,  after  the  schooner  had  got  clear 
of  the  ice,  he  sent  word  for  Druric  to  come  to  the  cabin. 
It  was  Fortier  who  brought  the  message  and  helped 
the  Virginian  to  the  deck,  by  way  of  a  passage  that 
led  into  the  forecastle  and  up  an  iron  ladder  to  the 
brisk  and  sunlit  world  above.  The  men  of  the  schooner 
eyed  Drurie  with  interest  —  even  with  admiration  — 
as  he  walked  aft,  with  his  shackled  hands  and  white, 
fearless  face. 


I'. 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^    r^PPUED  IM/IGE 


'65,5   tosi    Woin    -Jreel 
(716)    ?88  -  5989  -rax 


Inc 


^mn 


272 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


r  i  ;■ 


If 

II 


At  the  door  of  the  inner  cabin  the  surgeon  left  him. 

An  armed  mariner  opened  the  door  for  Drurie, 
followed  him  into  the  cabin,  and  closed  the  door.  The 
ports  stood  open,  admitting  a  draft  of  wind,  a  wavering 
radiance  of  simlight,  and  the  sibilant  complaining  of 
the  schooner's  wake.  On  the  locker  under  the  open 
ports  lolled  Duval  —  ruddy,  black-haired,  and  black- 
eyed  —  and  garbed  midway  between  the  style  of  a 
French  gentleman  and  a  pirate. 

"  Place  a  seat  for  Captain  Drurie,"  he  commanded, 
without  risuig. 

Drurie  sat  down  heavily  on  the  stool  that  was  pushed 
against  the  back  of  his  legs  bv  the  armed  mariner. 

"  Another  glass  on  the  table,  Pierre.  And  now 
you  may  withdraw  to  the  other  side  of  the  door,"  said 
the  Canadian. 

Left  alone  with  his  prisoner,  Duval  sat  up  and 
pushed  a  bottle  across  the  table.  "  It  is  good  wine, 
from  the  lazaretto  of  your  own  unfortunate  brig,  I 
believe,"  he  said.    "  Help  yourself,  captain." 

Drurie  flushed  quickly  and  lifted  his  hands  above 
the  edge  of  the  table,  so  that  the  short  chain  between 
the  bracelets  of  iron  clanked  against  the  bottle.  "  I 
must  trouble  you,  I  fear,"  he  said. 

*'  A  thousand  pardons,"  cried  Duval,  rising  quickly. 
He  did  not  strike  off  the  irons,  however,  but  contented 


Ti^'^^'^.j. 


Unsuspected  Fate 


273 


himself  with  pouring  wine  for  the  Virginian  and  then 
for  himself. 

Drurie  felt  faint.  He  raised  his  glass  clumsily  in 
both  manacled  hands  and  emptied  it  at  a  gulp. 

Duval  smiled  and  refilled  the  glass.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  his  lolling  position  on  the  locker. 

"  Captain  Drurie,"  he  said,  "  I  have  given  a  great 
deal  of  thought  to  the  case  of  you  and  your  companioi-.s, 
and  also  to  the  losses  I  have  suffered  at  your  hands. 
The  cargo  and  stores  of  your  brig  did  not  repay  one- 
fifth  of  my  losses.  I  must  try  to  recover  what  I  can. 
You  understand,  captain,  that  I  do  not  work  alto- 
gether for  glory.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  must  look 
sharp  to  the  doubloons.  But  I  do  not  blind  myself 
to  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others." 

"  I  believe  you,"  replied  Drurie  quietly.  "  You 
speak  honestly,  and  have  treated  me  with  more  con- 
sideration than  I  expected  at  your  hands." 

Duval  leaned  across  the  table  and  refilled  the  other's 
glass. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  I  cannot  carry  you  to 
Quebec,  as  I  told  you  before;  and  I  should  be  sorry 
to  do  so,  anyway.  I  am  sailing  to  the  islands  to  the 
south  of  St.-Kitt's,  to  see  if  I  cannot  pick  up  a  prize 
or  two  in  those  waters.  And  I  have  a  proposition  — 
a  suggestion  —  to  make  to  you." 


^pp 


274 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


i^ 


Drurie  nodded  and  looked  at  him  hopefully.  What 
now? 

"  I  honour  your  spirit  and  that  of  your  big  friend 
and  your  men,"  continued  the  Canadian.  "It  lost 
me  a  good  ship,  forty  stout  lads,  and  a  deal  of  stores; 
but  I  honour  it,  for  all  it  has  cost  me.  Never  have  I 
seen  such  fighting  as  that  of  your  little  brig. 

"  To  snow  my  admiration,  I  now  offer  you  a  position 
as  my  lieutenant  and  berths  for  your  friend  and  your 
eight  men.  It  is  freedom  I  offer  you,  and  membership 
in  a  brave  company.  When  you  have  served  with  me 
a  year,  if  you  or  any  of  your  men  are  then  anxious  to 
lea\e  me,  I  will  set  you  ashore  near  some  English 
settlement." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  offer,"  replied  Drurie.  "  No 
doubt,  you  mean  it  kindly.  But  serving  you  for  a 
year  means  preying  upon  my  own  country  for  a  year. 
For  myself,  I  refuse  the  offer.  My  comrades  are  free 
to  do  as  they  please  in  the  matter." 

"  You  do  not  ask  of  the  alternative?"  said  Duval, 
smiling. 

"  No  matter  what  the  aUernative  may  be,  I  reject 
your  offer,"  said  the  Virginian,  his  blue  eyes  shining 
as  cold  as  ice. 

"  You  speak  bravely,"  said  the  Canadian.  "  But 
listen,  Cai>    in  Drurie,     Those  who  cannot  serve  me, 


Unsuspected  Fate 


275 


and  so  earn  their  freedom  in  an  easy  and  pleasant 
manner,  must  be  sold  to  some  sugar- planter  in  the 
southern  islands.  Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  that  ? 
A  white  slave  leads  a  hard  life.  One  had  better  row 
in  a  Turkish  galley  than  work  in  the  fields  of  a  West 
Indian  plantation.  Your  courage  is  magnilicent. 
'Tis  a  pity  to  think  of  it  breaking,  day  by  day,  under 
the  whips  of  half-caste  drivers." 

"I  see  my  duty  plain,"  replied  Drurie  promptly. 
"  I  cannot  turn  my  hand  against  the  ships  of  my  own 
people.  What  is  fighting  for  you  would  be  nothing 
but  black  murder  for  me.  The  blood  on  my  iiands 
would  not  be  blood  of  my  enemies,  but  of  my  fellow 
countrymen.  I  will  work  and  die  on  any  plantation 
under  the  sun  rather  than  desert  the  service  in  which 
my  fathers  have  fought  and  won  glory.  I  cannot  forget 
that  I  am  a  Virginian  gentleman." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Duval.  "  I  think  you  are  pig- 
headed." 

Poor  young  Drurie  smiled  faintly.  This  was  cer- 
tainly an  unusual  name  for  loyalty.  Then  a  thought 
came  to  him  that  awoke  hope  in  him  again.  How 
gladi-  his  father  would  pay  money  to  save  him  and 
his  comrades  from  the  fate  that  threatened  them! 
And  that  money  was  what  Duval  wanted  was  plain  as 
a  pikestaff. 


276 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


|*li 


"  My  father  is  rich  and  generous,"  he  said.  "  I 
offer  you  a  hundred  pounds  for  each  one  of  my  little 
company  —  a  thousand  pounds  in  all.  My  home  is 
in  Virginia;  and  I  promise  you,  on  the  word  of  a 
gentleman,  that  the  money  shall  be  paid  to  you  the 
very  day  you  put  us  ashore  in  that  coimtry.  And 
you  shall  be  allowed  to  get  safely  away  again." 

Duval  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  sorry  to  beem  dis- 
obliging," he  replied,  "  but  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  wise  for  me  to  land  you  in  Virgmia.  That  is  a 
dangerous  coast.  A  thousand  pounds  do  not  cover 
the  risks  —  even  if  your  generous  father  should  con- 
sider it  worth  his  while  to  pay  so  much  for  what  he 
had  already  recovered." 

He  smiled  slyly,  emptied  his  glass,  and  refilled  it. 

"  I  answer  for  my  father's  honour,"  cried  Drurie. 
"  He  will  pay  double  that  sum  of  money,  and  let  you 
go  as  free  as  the  wind.  Yes,  I  promise  you  two  thousand 
{X)unds ! " 

"  The  coast  of  Virginia  is  ;iot  a  safe  place  for  Captain 
Duval  in  his  crippled  schojner,"  replied  the  Canadian. 
"  I  have  sighted  three  English  war-ships  in  those 
waters  in  cnc  day's  run.  I  fear  that  the  money  would 
be  of  small  use  to  me  if  I  went  there  to  get  it." 

"  Then  land  us  somewhere  near  New  England," 
cried  Drurie.    "  You  may  be  sure  that  the  money  will 


Unsuspected  Fate 


277 


be  sent  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can  communicaic  with  my 
father.  Come,  captain !  Two  thousand  poimds  make  a 
goodly  bag  of  money." 

Duval  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Bah!  You  are 
brave,  my  friend  —  and  you  are  simple.  But  I  am 
not  a  fool!    Say  no  more  of  your  generous  father." 

He  rapped  sharply  on  the  table  with  his  knuckles. 
The  armed  sailor  opened  the  door  and  came  to  Drurie's 
side. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  so  pig-headed,  Captain 
Drurie,"  said  Duval. 

"  And  I  am  sorry  that  you  will  not  accept  my  word 
for  the  money,"  said  Drurie,  staring  haughtily  at  the 
big  Canadian. 

The  guard  led  him  away,  back  to  his  manacled 
comrades  in  the  dark  hold.  One  by  one  the  rest  of 
the  survivors  of  the  Brave  Adventure's  crew  were 
taken  to  Duval  and  offered  membership  in  the  schoon- 
er's company. 

Every  one  of  them,  except  a  lad  named  Stark,  gave 
the  same  answer  that  their  commander  had  given. 
After  that  there  were  nine  prisoners  in  the  hold  instead 
of  ten. 

As  the  schooner  drew  farther  southward,  the  air 
in  the  hold  became  almost  unbearable.  The  stench 
of  the  bilge  a.vash  only  a  few  feet  below  them  tortxired 


^99 


WF 


278 


Cavalier  of  Virginia 


m 


even  their  seasoned  nostrik.  For  a  week  the  schooner 
rolled  idly  in  the  doldrums.  In  such  weather  not  so 
much  as  a  breath  of  wind  came  down  to  the  prisoners 
through  the  open  hatch. 

One  night  Drurie  crawled  under  the  square  eye 
of  the  hatch  and  lay  flat  on  his  back,  gazing  upward. 
A  touch  of  fever  was  in  his  blood.  He  counted  the 
large,  indifferent  star^  over  and  over,  trying  thus  to 
win  sleep  to  smarting  eyelids  and  oblivion  to  aching 
brain  and  body.    Despair  came  instead. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  sinking  of  the  brig,  his 
courage  failed  him  utterly.  He  groaned,  and  raised 
his  hands  to  his  face;  and  in  the  movement  the  chain 
that  held  wrist  to  wrist  fell  heavily  across  his  chin. 
At  that,  sudden  anger  revived  nis  spirit.  He  sat  up 
and  stared  into  the  dark. 

"  Lads,"  he  cried,  "  we  i  ^  ^aten  so  long  as 

there  is  life  in  us.  But  Stai.  a*  ark  is  in  a  worse 
plight  than  the  dead  men  under  the  ice!  These  dogs 
will  sell  us  to  lesser  dogs  —  and  these  irons  will  be 
struck  from  us  so  that  we  may  work  in  the  fields. 
Strengthen  youi  hearts  for  that  day,  lads  —  there'll 
be  cold  iron  in  our  hands  then  instead  of  on  our  wrists." 

When  Drurie  awoke,  the  sudden  tropic  morning 
was  aflare  across  the  square  of  the  hatchway.  That 
day  the  schooner  won  clear  of  the  regions  of  calm. 


ys 


Unsuspected  Fate 


279 


All  her  sails  were  spread  to  the  steady  wind,  and  she 
lay  over  with  a  bar  of  white  foam  under  her  forefoot 
and  the  furrows  of  her  wake  diverging  far  astern. 

Duval  had  the  captives  brought  on  deck  for  an 
airing.  A  healthy  slave  brings  a  better  price  than  a  sick 
one.  They  sat  forward,  m  the  shade  of  the  headsails, 
and  drank  in  the  glitter  and  swing  of  wind  and  sea. 
The  rush  of  waters  along  the  driving  hull,  the  vision 
of  straining  canvas,  and  the  smell  of  pitch  melting  in 
the  seams  revived  hope  in  their  courageous  breasts. 

They  remembered  with  a  glow  of  pride  what  a 
great  fight  they  had  made  against  fearful  odds;  and 
the  certainty  grew  in  their  hearts  that  they  should  • 
fight  again.  Those  who  could  moveu  up  and  down 
the  deck;  and  the  homely  sights  of  shipboard  —  the 
smoking  galley,  the  captain's  wash  flying  from  a  line, 
and  the  fellow  aloft  in  a  boatswain's  chair  scraping  the 
maintopmast  —  awoke  the  zest  of  life  in  them.  The 
Frenchmen  grinned  at  them,  and  gave  them  tobacco 
and  lime-juice.  Some  of  them  showed  their  wounds 
to  the  English  with  the  greatest  good-humour.  They 
seemed  to  recall  the  desperate  battle  only  as  a  joke. 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  vpyage  the  prisoners 
were  allowed  to  take  an  airing  on  the  deck  every  day. 
Also,  they  were  well  treated  in  the  matter  of  food  and 
drink.    But  Duval  kept  away  from  them.    He  did  not 


280 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


'fll! 


feel  quite  at  ease  when  Drurie  was  looking  at  him. 
The  surgeon  continued  to  tend  such  of  the  prisoners 
as  required  his  services.  Soon  Lhe  wounds  were  all 
healed,  and  Nicholas,  with  his  fever,  was  the  only  man 
on  the  sick-list. 

The  schooner  won  to  that  fairy  sea.  Every  day  new 
landfalls  were  made.  Dolphins  llashed  about  her 
bows,  and  the  blue  water  astern  was  cut  by  low,  black 
trysails,  the  dorsal  fins  of  sharks,  cruising  back  and 
forth.  Flying  fish  broke  from  the  waves  in  silver 
showers,  skimmed  away  until  they  were  but  specks 
against  the  blue,  and  splashed  again  into  the  waves. 
The  schooner  crowded  away  from  every  sail  she 
sighted.  Once  she  ran  so  close  to  a  little  French  island 
that  the  men  could  coimt  the  red  roofs  of  a  village 
nestled  between  the  seaward  palms  and  the  timbered 
shoulders  of  the  mountain-cone.  They  could  see  brown 
children  at  play  on  the  lilac  sand. 


CHAPTER  XXm 

ISOBEL   LOOKS   FROM  HER   WINDOW 

Captain  Devis  St.  Ovide  Duval  anchored  his 
schooner  outside  the  reef  of  the  little  island  of  IMadiana 
and  signalled  for  the  don  to  come  aboard.  They  were 
supposed  to  be  on  friendly  terms,  this  lawless  Coiiadian 
and  this  nameless  Spaniard.  For  all  that,  the  don 
would  not  trust  himself  aboard  the  schooner.  So  Duval, 
accompanied  by  one  of  his  officers  and  four  armed  men' 
went  ashore.  The  don  received  him  with  many  signs 
of  a  delight  which  he  did  not  feel.  To  tell  the  truth, 
he  was  afraid  of  the  Canadian. 

"I  have  nine  white  slaves  for  you,"  aid  Duval. 
"Two  gentlemen  and  seven  seamen.  '  o  you  a  ant 
them,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  I  am  short  of  hands.  Of  what 
breed  are  thty?"  replied  the  don.  He  would  have 
bough*  the  Frenchman's  windlass  or  his  spare  set 
of  sails  if  asked  —  anything  to  humour  the  dangerous 
fellow  and  get  him  speedily  away  from  the  island. 

"  One  is  a  Spaniard,  or  somethin:=;  of  that  kind. 

281 


?-.*I^^WI 


«8«  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


III 


H  I: 


Hh 


m 


% 


The  ethers  are  English  to  a  man,"  replied  Duval 
insolently. 

The  proprietor  of  the  island  paid  no  attention  to 
the  ncie  of  insolence  in  the  other's  voice  and  manner. 
"Send  for  them,  captain.  Bring  them  ashore  and 
let  ire  glarxc  them  over,"  he  cried  as  if  he  could 
scarcely  contain  his  delight  at  the  prospect  of  buying 
prisoners  from  the  Canadian. 

Vet  he  knew  that  he  would  have  to  pay  a  heavy 
price  fcr  the  fellows.  Yes,  a  heavy  price.  Had  he 
knoM-n  how  heavy,  I  think  he  would  have  given  Duval 
all  his  fortune  to  carry  them  away. 

Irons  were  put  on  the  prisoners'  legs  for  the  first 
time,  and  they  were  brought  ashore.  The  don  glanced 
them  over  with  a  sinister  smUe.  He  was  wishing  that 
Duval  was  one  of  them. 

He  walked  up  to  Cremona,  "  You  are  a  Spaniard," 
he  said. 

"Ycu  are  a  liar,"  replied  Cremona.  "  I  am  an 
English  gentleman." 

The  doit  drew  back  as  if  he  had  been  stung.  "  You'll 
die  for  that,"  he  cried.  "  Your  great  carcass  will  rot 
in  the  sun  for  that,  you  fool." 

Duval  and  his  feUows  laughed  long  and  loud. 
"  Yes,  he  is  a  gentleman,  whatever  country  bred  him," 
said  the  Frenchman.     "Two  of  them  are  men  of 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     283 


breeding,  as  I  told  you.  I  had  no  trouble  with  them, 
for  I  know  how  to  treat  gentlemen.  It  is  a  pity  you 
<'    net  understand  the  breed." 

The  don  found  that  a  hard  mouthful  to  swallow, 
uut  he  swallowed  it. 

Iscbel  closed  the  lo^  -  -  .  i  utters  of  her  window  and 
peeped  cut  between  the  slats  at  the  pitiful  procession 
that  came  slowly  up  from  the  sand.  She  had  been 
watching  the  schooner  for  some  time  and  the  men  on 
the  sh  c,  wondering  if  the  visit  of  this  fine  craft 
would  bring  any  change  in  her  drear;'  life.  As  the 
strangers  came  nearer,  and  she  saw  that  iV  i  maiii 
body  of  them  were  ironed  at  wrist  and  leg,  she  under- 
stood the  reason  of  the  schooner's  visit,  and  her  heart 
sank. 

The  xcssion  passed  close  to  the  front  of  the  house. 
:x\ii\  .juked  down  upon  the  ragged,  weary  feUows 
..s  ihey  toiled  along  through  the  beating  sunlight. 
1:  i.<  Jcnl}-  her  attention  was  caught  by  the  gallant, 
familiar  bearing  of  one  of  the  shackled  men.  A  low 
cry  escaped  her  —  and,  as  if  he  had  heard  the  cry,  the 
man  looked  up.  She  gazed  down,  horror-stricken, 
into  the  face  of  her  lover  —  into  the  thin,  undaunted 
face  of  Francis  Drurie.  Then  a  cloud  of  fire  surged 
across  her  vision. 
Isobel  recovered  her  senses  quickly.   At  that  moment 


IN 


284 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


her  uncle  entered  the  room.    He  came  close  to  her  and 
took  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"  I  want  you  to  keep  out  of  sight  until  that  schooner 
gets  her  anchor  up,"  he  whispered.  "  She  is  a  French 
pirate.  Her  captain  is  now  in  the  dining-room.  If 
he  catciios  sight  of  you  -why,  you  will  wish  that  you 
were  still  living  quietly  with  me." 

The  girl  promised  to  keep  out  of  the  pirate's  sight 
Alcazardo  left  her  after  a  final  warning  to  keep  to 
her  room  and  not  to  open  the  shutters  of  her  windows. 
Then  she  threw  herself  down  upon  the  bed  and  wept. 
What  was  she-  ^o  do  ?    She  knew  to  what  a  place  her 
lover  had  been  brought,  but  her  heart  told  her  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  let  him  know  of  her  presence 
on  the  island  or  to  let  her  uncle   suspect    Drurie's 
identity.     She  prayed  the  knowledge  be  kept  from  him. 
To  what  depths  of  torture  it  might  inspire  him,  his 
own  black  heart  alone  could  say.    After  the  storm  of 
tears,  her  mind  was  clear.    She  saw  that  she  must  now 
work  cunningly  and  swiftly  toward  Alcazardo's  over- 
throw. 

She  realized  that  she  could  not  disclose  her  presence 
to  her  lover,  until  the  don's  power  was  broken,  without 
danger  to  his  life.  He  would  spring  upon  the  fellow, 
bent  upon  her  rescue,  and  die  miserably  and  uselessly. 
Her  most  terrible  fear  was  that  the  don  might  learn 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     285 


that  one  of  his  new  slaves  was  none  other  than  Francis 

Drurie,  the  Virginian.     Perhaps  he  already  knew  it. 

Her  mind  tortured  her  with  suppositions  as  to  what  the 

monster  would  do  in  such  a  case. 

He  would  see,  in  a  flash,  the  end  of  his  dream  —a 
dream  which  the  girl   had    artfully  encouraged  —  of 
going  back  to  Virginia  some  day  and  Uving  the  Ufe  of 
a  prosperous,  godly  gentleman.     If  he  thought  that 
she  had  not  seen  her  lover,  might  he  not  kill  him  im- 
mediately, and  so  look  to  stand  as  firmly  m  her  favour 
then  as  before?    What  a  thought!    Again,  if  he  knew 
that  the  girl  had  seen  the  Virginian,  he  would  have  no 
more  use  for  her.     She  trembled  at  thought  of  what 
her  fate  might  be. 

In  the  dining-room  Duval  and  the  don  drank  wine 
and  bartered.  At  last  the  don  paid  over  the  exorbitant 
sum  demanded  by  the  Canadian  for  the  nine  prisoners. 
Then  he  began  to  ask  questions. 

"What  ship  did  these  fellows  belong  to?"  he 
asked. 

Now,  there  was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  Duval 
should  not  tell  the  Spaniard  what  he  knew  of  the 
truth,  but,  not  liking  the  fellow,  his  first  thought  was 
to  lie  to  him. 

"  They  came  out  of  a  brig  I  captured  off  the  coast 
of  Newfoundland,"  he  said.     "  You  will  find  them 


286 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


II  ti:. 

•  - 1  "      I 


rii 


I  f  - 


hardy  lads.    And  two  of  them,  as  I  have  told  you,  are 
gentlemen." 

"  And  what  ore  the  names  of  those  two  ?  "  asked 
the  don. 

"  Bah!    What  do  I  know  of  the  names  of  my  pris- 
oners?" replied  Duval. 

"  Slaves  require  no  names,"  agreed  the  dan. 

He  pc.ured  more  wine  foi  his  guest  and  himself 
He  was  m  a  great  hurcy  to  get  the  Canadian  out  of 
the  hcuso,  for  the  fellow  had  an  uncomfortable  way 
cf  staring  at  the  box  from  which  he  had  just  been  paid 
for  the  slaves,  and  of  looking  at  the  silver  on  the  side- 
board with  calculating  eyes.  By  the  time  Duval  waS 
ready  to  go  back  to  his  ship  the  don  had  forgotten  the ' 
mild  curiosity  he  had  once  entertained  regarding  the 
names  cf  the  men  he  had  bought  for  so  much  "good 
gold. 

At  last  the  schooner  got  her  anchor  up  and  slipped 
away,  out  of  sight  of  the  tnankful  Spaniard  and  the 
Island  of  Madiana.  She  ran  down  the  narrow  sea 
between  the  soarin,  ncs  of  xMartinique  and  Dominica 
and  southward,  still  past  islr.nd- holdings  of  Spain' 
France,  England,  and  Holland.  There  she  gathered 
easy  spoil;  and  all  the  while  her  commander  planned 
a  brave  return  against  his  old  enemies  in  the  smoky 
seas  of  the  north.     But  on  his  way  to  the  north  he 


r^ 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     287 


would  stop  at  a  certain  smaU,  unprotected  island  and 
see  what  the  don^s  fortune  was  worth.  No  doubt  the 
yellov'  faced  old  devil  had  the  price  of  more  than  one 
good  ship  hidden  away. 

To  the  sunivors  of  the  Brave  Adventure  the  change 
from  Duval's  schooner  to  the  doit^s  island  did  not  seem 
at  first  to  be  a  change  for  the  better.    The  doit  was  full 
of  cruelty.    He  gave  his  mind  to  the  practice  of  causing 
pam,  as  another  man  would  to  some  absorbing  sport 
He  conceived  the  torture  to  suit  the  particular^case  in 
hand,  considermg  the  temperament  and  constitution 
of  his  victims  with  scientific  nicety.     His  slaves  stood 
m  such  terror  of  him  that  fear  hid  their  hatreJ.  even 
from  themselves.    He  filled  every  day  of  their  miserable 
lives  wuh  such  a  dread  and  apprehension  that  many 
of  them,  seemg  no  other  way  of  escape,  openc  1  for 
themselves  the  door  of  death.    If  the  victim  in  such  a 
case  happened  to  be  old,  feeble,  or  diseased,  the  word 
of  his  self-destruction  was  received  by  the  doK  with 
every  sign  of  satisfaction;   but  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  suicide  had  been  a  valuable  slave,  he  feU  into  the 
most  furious  transports  of  temper.    On  such  an  occasion 
he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  have  one  of  his  trusted  over- 
seers tied  up  and  flogged.     The  dor^  promised  himself 
a  deal  of  diversion  at  the  expense  of  his  new  English 
slaves.    As  they  were  of  a  proud  ana   ourageous  race 


j[i-i 


.  i 
I'  I 


•88 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


if 
lilll 


1 . 1  ;■ 


m 


I  r  I  s  ~ 


i! 


and  the  children  of  generations  of  freemen,  subtle 
cruelty  would  not  be  lost  upon  them.  As  for  his  other 
white  slaves  —  why,  like  the  blacks,  they  had  become 
so  dispirited  that  they  could  only  be  aroused  to  suffering 
by  physical  pain.  But  this  new  importation?  Ah! 
he  would  flay  their  pride  as  well  as  their  backs.  He 
would  crush  them  to  the  soil;  break  their  manhood; 
set  'hdr  natures  back  a  thousand  years. 

Tiie  wrists  of  the  new  slaves  were  freed,  but  the 
irons  were  kept  on  their  le-s.    They  were  given  wide 
hats  of  native  straw,  with  the  crowns  filled  with  leaves 
so  that  the  sun  wouM  not  stri.ce  them  dead.     Tliey 
were    dri^•cn    like    cattle    dov.-n    a    track,    between 
bananas  and  plantains,  to  a  hillside  field  of  young 
can:s.     Each   was  given   a  hoe,  of  unwieldy  shape 
and  extraordinary  weight,  and  was  directed  by  fierce 
gestures  to  pulverize  the  sun-baked  clods  of  soil  about 
the  plants. 

Drurie  set  an  example  manfully,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed it,  determined  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business 
for  just  so  long  as  it  was  necessary.  While  their  beloved 
captain  worked,  they  would  work;  and  when  he  fought, 
they  would  fight.  They  suffered  as  much  from  his 
wounds  and  his  weariness  as  from  their  own. 

Aftei  two  hours  of  steady  work,  the  lad,  Nicholas, 
reeiea   and  fell.     An  overseer  shouted   at   him   and 


h  iM^. 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window     289 


cracked  thr  knotted,  rawhide  lash  of  his  v.hin  Poor 
NichoL. ,  tried  to  regain  his  feet;  tried  to  pick  up  the 
hoe,  only  to  fall  again  on  hands  and  knees,  and  so 
crouch  helpless,  close  to  the  warm  eartli.  The  overseer 
cursed  furiously. 

Stepping  past  several  of  the  other  labourers,  who 
i.ad  paused  in  theu  work  to  gaze  in  pitv  and  dismay 
at  their  fallen  comrade,  he  laid  his  whip,  full-swung 
across   the    panting   body.       Nicholas    flinched    and 
groaned.    The  felhw  flung  the  whip  back  for  another 
olow;    but  before  he  could  administer  it,  Drurie  had 
him  by  the  threat,  and  all  the  new  slaves  were  jumping 
tovN-ard  him  en  their  shackled  feet.     He  let  fall  the 
whip,  tore  himself  clear  of  the  choking  fingers,  and 
fled. 

The  >hn^s  new  slaves  spent  that  night  on  an  earthen 
floor,  chained  to  the  timbers  of  a  foul  hu^  Young 
Nicholas  was  in  a  raging  fever.  He  rolled  from  side 
to  side,  muttcicd  cominuously,  and  pulled  at  his 
shackles.  Dcbpair  and  madness  were  in  thrt  black 
hut;  and  death  lurked  withoi  ^n  the  sickening,  black 
night,  where  a  mulatto  driver  aatted  with  a  musket 
{'.cross  his  knees. 

But  Drurie's  courageous  soul  was  able  to  derive 
some  ]:ope  from  the  horrors  of  the  past  day.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  either  death  or  a  mure  desirable  form  of 


fl  i 


)!i 


290 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


M 


I  i- 


freedom  must  soon  be  theirs,  for  already  every  man 
of  them  had  tasted  the  lash,  and  they  had  all  openly 
attacked  their  taskmaster.  This  spirit  meant  a  change 
of  some  kind-perhap?  death,  perhaps  freedom. 
And  why  not  freedom  ? 

Surely  these  other  slaves  that  he  had  seen  suffering 
in  the  fields  were  ready  to  rise!  A  sudden  attack,  a 
quick  death  for  some,  and  life  for  more.  And  then,  if 
he  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  one  of  the  living,  the 
search  for  Isobel  and  her  uncle.  He  recalled'  the' fact 
that  one  of  the  overseers  had  come  but  slowlv  to  help 
subdue  the  revolt  of  the  morning,  and  that,  thou-h  he 
had  snapped  his  whip  diligently  enough,  he  had  not 
struc'.  any  of  the  slaves.  There  was  hope  m  that 
surely.  ' 

If  that  overseer  could  be  won  to  his  side,  it  would 
be  no  great  matter  to  put  an  end  to  the  don's  reign  on 
the  island.  Then  he  remembered  the  vision  that  had 
come  to  him  aboard  the  Brave  Adventure.  With  hope 
firm  in  his  heart,  he  at  last  fell  asleep.  He  did  not 
know  how  long  he  had  been  unconscious,  when  a 
light  touch  on  his  shoulder  awoke  him.  He  felt  that 
some  one  stooped  close  to  him. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Hush,"  came  the  guarded  reply. 

He  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  the  rim  of  a  cool 


Isobel  Looks  from  Her  Window    291 


cup  ...gainst  his  lips.  He  drank  eagerly;  but  the  cup 
was  not  held  straight,  and  as  much  of  the  water  spiUed 
over  his  chin  and  breast  as  passed  down  his  parched 
throat.  But  it  felt  deUcious  wherever  it  touched  him. 
At  last  the  sweet  cup  was  withdrawn. 

'I  Who  are  you?"  he  whispered.  The  impact  of 
a  light,  soft-shod  foot  sounded  twice  on  the  earthen 
floor.    He  turned  on  his    de  and  listened. 

There  was  only  a  sound  of  quiet  breathing  in  the 
dark.    Even  Nicholas  had  ceased  his  restless  muttering 
The  silence  of  peace  filled  the  black  hut  as  if  an  angel 
had  soothed  it. 

In  the  garden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  from  the 
hut  and  the  yard,  two  persons  whispered  together. 

One  was  Isobel,  the  supposed  daughter  of  the  don; 
the  ether  was  Laroche,  the  half-caste  overseer  whom 
the  don  had  once  flogged. 

"  When  the  fight  is  well  begun,  they  will  all  be  brave 
enough;  but  they  fear  the  don  worse  than  the  devil 
himself,"  said  Laroche. 

"  It  must  be  planned  for  the  night  after  to-morrow  " 
whispered  the  lady.  "  You  and  Valois  will  otYer  to 
take  the  places  of  the  guards.  Give  them  rum  and  a 
little  of  this  money." 

Then  they  parted.  The  girl  moved  toward  the  house. 
Laroche  returned  through  the  gate  in  the  waU. 


^Iffi 


It 
It  I  ' 


m 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  PLEASANT   TIME   BEFORE   BREAKFAST 

Very  early  in  the  morning,  before  any  food  was  served 
to  them,  the  nine  new  slaves  were  lined  up  in  the  en- 
closed yard  in  front  of  the  hut  in  which  they  had  spent 
the  night.  The  two  overseers  who  marshalled  them 
had  pistols  in  their  belts  as  well  as  whips  in  their  hands. 
Laroche  was  not  one  of  the  two.  Nicholas  was  in  the 
line,  leaning  weakly  against  one  of  his  comrades. 
Now  and  then  a  leg-iron  clanked.  Otherwise,  the 
slaves  and  their  guards  waited  in  silence  —  the  slaves 
waiting  for  they  knew  not  what.  Over  one  wall  they 
saw  the  green  crests  of  palms  and  the  red-tiled  roof 
of  the  hous?.  Over  another  loomed  the  stone  tower 
of  the  windmill.  .\  draft  of  sea  air  came  fanning  do^^-n 
to  them,  and  their  hearts  sickened  with  longing  for 
deck  and  spar. 

A  door  in  the  wall,  over  which  the  palms  crulrj  be 
seen,  opened  suddenly,  and  the  don  jitcppcd  into  the 
yard.  He  was  dressed  in  loose  white  linen,  r.  !.at  of 
native  straw,  and  a  sash  of  red  silk  around  hb  waist. 

292 


:ll: 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast   ^93 


On  his  bare  feet  he  wore  heelless  slippers  of  slraw. 
He  halted  a  few  paces  from  the  prisoners  and  looked 
them  over  with  deliberate  menace.  Every  man  of  them, 
save  Nicholas,  met  the  black  eyes  fearlessly.  Nicholas' 
poor  lad,  was  not  c^•en  aware  of  the  doii's  presence. 

ihc  Spaniard  stared  at  Drurie  with  what  seemed 
exaggerated  intentness,  as  if  with  his  glance  alone  he 
would  force  the  younger  and  smaller  man  to  some  show 
of  weakness  or  fear.  But  in  the  clear  blue  eyes  and 
thin  face  he  saw  a  spirit  that  challenged  and  scorned 
him.  He  turned  to  the  fellow  whose  throat  had  been 
endangered  by  Drurie's  fingers,  and  put  a  brief  question 
in  Spanish.  For  answer,  the  overseer  pointed  at  the 
Virgmian. 

"  You  and  your  comrades  are  evidently  of  the  lawless 
class  of  English,"  said  the  don,  leering  at   Drurie. 
"  I  know  the  country.    The  men  are  all  either  cringing 
shopkeepers  or  lawless  ruffians.    The  women!    Bah! 
High  and  low,  they  are  all  equally  without  virtue." 
"  You  are  a  liar!  "  said  Drurie. 
"  You  are  a  dirty  dog!  "  cried  Cremona. 
The  don^s  leer  deepened.    "  Lawlessness  is  a  thing 
I  dare  not  allow  on  this  island,"  he  said.    "  We  live 
in  peace  and  harmony  heie.     I  do  not  like  to  have 
my  slaves   attempt   to    murder  the  men    I    set  over 
them." 


294 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


He  turned  to  the  fellow  whom  Drurie  had  attacked 
on  the  previous  day.  "  As  we  are  short  of  hands," 
he  said  in  Spanish,  "  and  the  crop  is  coming  on,  we 
cannot  give  them  as  much  as  I  should  like  just  now. 
Ten  lashes  apiece  will  do  for  to-day.  Make  haste, 
for  I  have  not  yet  had  my  coffee." 

There  were  four  iron  rings  in  the  wall  —  two  high 
up,  two  close  to  the  ground.  One  of  the  overseers 
grabbed  Drurie  by  the  shoulder  and  began  to  push 
him  across  the  yard  toward  the  wall. 

"Not  so  fast!"  cried  the  don.  "We'll  serve  our 
two  fine  gentlemen  last  of  all.  They'll  enjoy  watching 
the  sport." 

So  the  ruffian  released  the  Virginian  and  seized  the 
man  who  stood  next  in  line.  The  poor  fellow  did  not 
resist,  though  his  hands  were  free.  In  a  trice  he  was 
tied  to  the  rings  in  the  wall  by  wrists  and  ankles.  His 
tattered  shirt  was  torn  roughly  from  his  back.  The 
short-stocked,  long-lashed  whip  was  swung  back,  and 
at  the  same  moment  the  other  overseer  presented  his 
pistols  — one  at  Drurie  and  one  at  Cremona.  The 
lashes  whistled  in  the  air  and  descended  upon  the 
flinching  back.  The  don  began  to  count  aloud.  Again 
the  lashes  swooped  and  fell.  Again  — and  this  time 
the  blood  sprang  after  the  wire-tipped  thongs,  in  dark 
lines  across  the  white  back.     And  so  on,  until  ten 


A  Pleasant  Time  Beiore  Breakfast    295 


strokes  had  been  mt     odically  given  and  as  methodi- 
cally counted. 

Then,  poor  Tyler  was  loosened  from  the  wall,  a 
bucketful  of  water  was  sloshed  over  his  back  and  some 
sort  of  ointment  v.as  applied  to  the  bruised  and  bleeding 
flesh.  When  the  cords  were  untied  he  fell  to  the  ground 
in  a  dead  faint.  He  was  carried  into  {he  hut  by  two 
negro  sla\es;  and  as  soon  as  he  regained  consciousness 
a  clean  shirt  was  put  upon  him,  and  coffee  an  I  food 
were  given  him.  It  was  important  that  he  shculd  be 
able  to  do  his  work,  for  this  was  a  busy  season  of  the 
year  on  the  li;.le  island.  The  canes  in  si.\ty  acres  of 
the  plantation  were  now  ready  for  the  knives  of  the 
reapers,  and,  along  with  the  harvesting  and  boiling, 
many  acres  of  young  canes  had  still  to  be  cultivated. 

The  two  overseers  took  turn  and  turn  about  at 
applying  the  whip  to  the  backs  of  the  English  mariners. 
The  dtni  coun;ed  the  strokes  and  frequently  cried  for 
more  haste,  as  he  had  not  yet  partaken  of  his  first 
breakfast.  When  Nicholas  was  dragged  to  the  wall, 
Drurie  pro'ested  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  You  fiead,"  he  cried  at  the  don,  "  can't  you  see  that 
ten  lashes  will  kill  him  ?  He  is  already  all  but  dead  with 
the  fever." 

The  don  walked  over  to  Nicholas  and  examined  him 
closely.    "  Yes,  you  are  right,"  he  said  cooUy.    "  The 


29G 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


! 


mil 


II-  h 


fellow  cost  me  money  —  and,  tlso,  I  am  short  of  hands. 
It  will  be  a  month's  time,  perl  .ps,  before  I  can  afford 
to  give  any  of  you  your  fuh  measure  of  correc- 
tion." 

The  Virginian's  only  reply  was  a  look  of  such 
unutterable  hate  and  scorn  that  the  don  flushed  under 
his  swarthy  skin. 

Last  of  all,  Drurie  was  untied  from  the  wall  and 
allowed  to  return  to  the  hut.  He  walked  without 
assistance,  clanking  the  chain  between  his  feet.  His 
facp  was  lumiuouj  with  a  desperate  pallor,  and  blood 
trickled  down  his  lean  back.  He  accepted  the  washing 
and  dressing  without  a  word,  and  ate  bravely  when 
food  was  brought  to  him.  He  drained  his  bowl  of 
coHcc  to  the  last  drop  and  then  looked  at  his  men, 
his  glance  passing  tenderly  from  face  to  face. 

^  Keep  up  your  courage,  lads,"  said  he,  "  for  a  low 
heart  breeds  fever  —  and  fever  is  an  enemy  from  whom 
I  cannct  deliver  you.  As  for  this  swine  who  thinks 
lie  owns  us!  Lads,  as  surely  as  I  was  bred  in  Virginia, 
ril  shov.-  Lim  to  you  before  many  days  are  gone,  with 
a  yard  of  iron  through  his  bellv." 

IIa^•ing  gloated  over  the  sight  of  Drurie's  lacerated 
bac!:  until  the  gloom  of  the  hut  hid  it  from  him,  the 
planter  passed  again  through  the  door  in  the  wall  by 
v.hich  he  had  entered  the  yard.     By  only  the  width 


^If^ 


'^^m '^^m..^^i 


'^s^r;^ 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfasf    297 


of  one  step  —  by  the  thickness  of  the  wall  —  was  the 
whipping- place  separated  from  a  garden  paradise. 
In  the  one  were  glaring  sunshine,  terror,  iron,  and  little 
drops  of  blood.  In  the  other  were  blending  of  shadow 
and  sunlight,  rustling  of  high  foliage,  great  blooms  of 
hybiscus,  and  petals  of  red  roses  on  the  ground. 

But  the  dori  was  indilTerent  to  the  beauty        "  ^  one 
as  to  the  ugliness  of  the  other.    He  wcvy  ,arden. 

Therefore,  the  palms  singing  in  the  sca-i  ..-^e,  lemon- 
trees  leaning  above  benches  of  carved  stone,  along 
which  green  lizards  darted  in  their  play;  therefore,  the 
bells  cf  the  hybiscus  flowers  and  the  flaring  blooms  of 
the  flambeau-trees;  therefore,  the  roses  budding  and 
blowing.  He  must  whip  his  slaves;  and,  therefore,  the 
unshaded  yard,  the  high  wall,  and  the  rings  in  the 
masonry 

Alcaz.ido  passed  under  the  green  branches  and 
flaring  blooms  and  ascended  a  flight  of  steps  to  the 
gallery  of  his  house.  In  the  cool  shade  stood  a  table 
set  for  two.  Here  \\"re  white  linen  and  gleaming 
silver.    An  old  man  stood  beside  the  table. 

"  Tell  the  scnorita  that  I  am  ready,"  ordered  the 
don.    The  old  man  hurried  away. 

In  a  moment  Isobel  appcareo,  her  face  as  white  as 
the  linen  on  the  table  and  her  evr-  <A  .■..-■r-  with 
tears.    Her  uncle  sneered  at  her  open  ■; 


fi!^ 


208 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


ilfl^ 


^  ^'^}i}i 


I 


"  Well,  my  daughter,  what  is  the  trouble  with  you  ?  " 
lie  asked,  with  mocking  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

The  girl  could  not  find  courage  to  meet  his  cruel, 
searching  regard.  She  was  afraid  that  he  might  read 
what  was  in  her  heart  —  the  hate,  the  contempt,  the 
crouching  fury  that  was  so  soon  to  strike. 

"  I  am  not  well,"  she  faltered.  "  I  feel  feverish  and 
weak.    I  yearn  for  my  home  in  Virginia." 

He  accepted  this  statement  without  a  suspicion. 
"  You  must  take  some  quinine  and  keep  out  of  the 
sun,"  he  said.  "  And  as  for  your  home  in  Virginia  — 
well,  you'll  get  there  all  in  good  time,  my  dear." 

While  eight  of  the  new  slaves  toiled  in  the  fields, 
and  the  lad  Nicholas  lay  raving  in  the  dark  hut,  Isobel 
and  the  fellow  Laroche  went  steadily  about  their  hidden 
work. 

Before  evening  the  little  schooner  Twelve  Apostles 
put  into  the  lagoon,  with  a  cargo  of  stores  for  the 
island.  The  hearts  of  Isobel  and  Laroche  Hfted  at  the 
sight  of  her. 

At  last  night  came,  and  the  men  of  the  Brave  Adven- 
ture dragged  themselves  back  to  the  hut.  They  were . 
chained  in  their  places  and  fed.  Drurie  saw  that  the 
man  on  guard  was  the  same  fellow  who  had  withheld 
his  hand  during  the  brief  revolt  of  the  previous  day. 
He  stood  in  the  door  of  the  hut.  a  black  bulk  a^^ainst 


m 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast   299 


the  paler  dark  of  the  early  night.  The  lads  on  the 
earthen  floor,  with  iron  in  their  souls  as  well  as  on 
their  limbs,  v/ere  desperate.  Even  Cremona  had  lost 
all  sense  of  caution.  They  begged  Drurie  to  let  them 
fight  as  soon  as  they  were  unchained  in  the  morning. 

"Let  us  ease  our  souls,  a  bit,  sir,  afore  we  die," 
pleaded  Tyler.  "  'Twould  be  like  liquor  to  us,  sir, 
to  kill  some  o'  these  fiends." 

"  If  we  do  not  fight  soon,  we'll  have  no  strength 
to  fight  at  all,"  said  Cremona. 

Before  Drurie  could  answer,  the  guard  turned  and 
stepped  close  to  him,  and  whispered  something  in 
Spanish. 

"  Tell  it  to  me,"  said  Cremona.    "  I  know  the  talk." 

Laroche  moved  to  Cremona's  side.  "  You  must  wait 
until  to-morrow  night,"  he  whispered.  "  Then  I  will 
remove  the  chains  and  free  your  hands  and  your  feet 
and  give  you  each  a  cutlass.  The  senorila  and  I  have 
arranged  this.  The  other  slaves  are  cowards;  but  they 
will  rise  when  they  know  that  you  are  already  creeping 
upon  the  house.  We  shall  kill  the  dan  and  capture  the 
schooner." 

Cremona  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his 
ears. 

"  Are  you  honest  in  this  —  or  is  it  some  new  tor- 
ture?" he  asked. 


300 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


i:i   ■^ 


pp. 
fii 


Laroche  drew  a  crucifix  from  his  breast  and  swore 
a  great  oath  that  he  meant  every  word  of  what  he  had 
said. 

"Then  you  shall  be  well  paid  for  it,  my  friend. 
The  captain  is  a  rich  man,  and  will  be  generous  with 
you,"  said  Cremona. 

"  Nay,  I  want  no  money  from  you,"  replied  Laroche. 
"  The  seiiorita  has  promised  me  an  bc.iourable  position 
and  a  sum  of  money  —  but  my  reward  will  be  to  see 
the  blood  of  that  black  dog  spurting  out." 
"  Who  is  this  sefiorita?  "  asked  Cremona. 
"They   call   her   the   don's  daughter,"    whispered 
Laroche.    "  But  I  do  not  think  this  is  so,  for  she  hates 
the  dog  even  as  you  and  I  hate  him.    We  have  had  no 
courage  to  strike;  but  when  you  came,  and  the  captain 
there  looked  as  if  he  feared  the  don  no  more  than  a  dead 
fish,  then  wc  found  our  courage.   So  you  must  keep  your 
hearts  covered  until  I  come  to  you  to-morrow  night." 
Without  another  word,  the  overseer  went  noiselessly 
back  to  the  door  of  the  hut,  stood  there  a  few  moments 
with  his  musket  across  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and 
then  stepped  into  the  yard.     From  somewhere  in  the 
dislance   came   the  voices   of   the  crew  of   the  little 
schooner.     The  fellows  were  singing  over  their  liquor. 
Cremona  crawled  as  close  to  Drurie  as  his  chain 
would   allow  and   whispered   him  the  story  of  their 


m 


A  Pleasant  Time  Before  Breakfast    301 


promised  deliverance.  And  so,  in  fragments,  it  passed 
from  one  to  another  of  the  battered  company.  It  put 
new  life  into  them,  and  went  to  their  heads  like  wine. 
Again  the  world  was  theirs,  and  they  saw  again  the 
tall  spars  and  white  sails  of  ships  and  the  hills  and 
fields  of  their  distant  homes.  The  glad  news  set  all 
hearts  aglow  with  hope,  save  the  heart  of  the  lad 
Nicholas.  He,  poor  fellow,  had  died  quietly  even  while 
the  overseer  whispered  in  Cremona's  ear. 

At  last  sleep  came  to  them,  and  silence  filled  that 
black  hut  where  eight  living  men  and  one  dead  man 
lay  chained  on  the  earthen  floor.  Throughout  the 
long  night  Drurie  dreamed  of  Isobel  and  Virginia. 


:  n 


ill 


CHAPTER  XXV 


I }.  <  I 


THE  RISING 

Ween  Alcazardo  heard  next  morning  that  one  of 
his  new  slaves  was  dead,  he  fell  into  a  fit  of  ungovern- 
able fury.  He  had  spsi  -d  the  fellow  a  whipping  so 
that  he  might  live  —  and,  behold,  the  rascal  had  died, 
thus  cheating  the  unfonunate  don  of  the  pleasure  of 
counting  ten  more  lashes  as  well  as  of  the  price  paid 
to  Duval.  He  raved  like  a  madman;  and  as  for  the 
fellow  who  brought  him  the  news,  he  received  a  blow 
on  the  side  of  the  head  from  a  candlestick  that  laid 
him  flat  for  half  the  day. 

Then  the  doii  set  out  for  the  field  in  which  the  English 
slaves  were  at  work.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  long  and 
limber  stick  of  the  West  Indian  vine  called  supple- 
jack. Upon  reaching  the  toiling,  weary  fellows,  he- 
laid  about  him  cruelly,  striking  their  aching  legs  and 
raw  backs  with  merciless,  slashing  cuts. 

"  I'll  soon  have  you  all  on  the  dunghill  where  your 
shipmate  was  thrown  this  morning,"  he  cried. 

At  that,  the  Virginian's  rage  overcame  his  caution. 

302 


'n«i'"-'ii«4""ia; = ■»•— « 


The  Rising 


303 


He  straightened  himself  and  looked  the  don  up  and 
do\Mi.  "  You  shameless  cur!  The  only  white  man 
you  are  not  afraid  of  is  a  dead  one,"  he  cried. 

Alcazardo  sprang  at  him  and  struck  him  fair  across 
the  face  with  the  heavy,  fibrous  stick.  Twice  he  struck 
—  and  at  the  second  blow  Drurie  fell  without  a  sound. 

When  Drurie  recovered  consciousness  it  was  to  find 
himself  on  the  earthen  floor  of  the  hut.  His  face  and 
left  eye  ached  with  a  dull  throbbing  that,  at  the  slightest 
movement,  sprang  to  excruciating  activity.  He  lifted 
his  hand  cautiously  and  felt  that  his  head  and  face 
wei-e  generously  bandaged  in  damp  cloths.  At  the 
discovery,  thought  of  the  senorita,  of  whom  the  over- 
seer had  spoken,  came  to  him.  The  cloths  that  bound 
head  and  eyes  were  of  fine  linen,  and  a  subtle  fragrance 
of  lavender  exhaled  from  them.  An  overseer  would 
have  bandaged  his  wounds  with  very  different  material, 
he  reflected.  Could  it  be  that  the  senorita,  that  mys- 
terious and  merciful  being,  had  tended  him  with  her 
own  hands  ?  How  strongly,  sweetly  familiar  this  scent 
of  lavender! 

Francis  Drurie  felt  a  light,  light  touch  on  his  hand. 
It  brought  him  back  from  a  sweet  half  dream  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

"  You  must  drink  this,"  whispered  a  muffled  voice 
at  his  ear.    He  felt  a  tender  arm  behind  his  head  and 


i   .i 


304 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


in 


the  cool  rim  of  a  cup  against  his  lips.    He  drank  the 
wine  and  water,  helpless  and  obedient  as  a  child. 

"  Is  it  the  merciful  seiiorita? "  he  asked  when  the 
cup  was  withdra.  n. 

"Yes,"  came  the  reply,  in  a  faint  but  ihrilling 
whisper. 

"  I  do  not  ask  your  reason  for  planning  to  save  us, 
but  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said.  "  If  you, 
too,  wish  to  be  saved  from  this  place  of  des:;air — 
madam,  I  ask  no  questions  —  I  shall  blithel)-  r:J;  my 
life  to  save  you.  It  is  for  the  love  of  one  merciiul  and 
beautiful  woman  that  I  cling  to  life  — then  in  the 
service  of  another  as  merciful,  and  perhaps  as  beautiful, 
let  me  lose  it." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  woman  ycu  love  ? "' 
asked  the  voice  of  the  senorita,  so  low  that  he  could 
scarcely  hear  the  words. 

"  Isobel."  replied  Drurie  frankly.  It  was  lilx  food 
to  his  hu-.gry  heart  to  speak  of  his  love. 

"Then,  for  her  sake,  you  must  save  yourself  and 
me,"  came  the  faint  reply.  "  Before  midnight  your 
chains  shall  be  unfastened.  Be  wise  and  brave.  For 
her  sake  -—  Heaven  prosper  you,  my  captain." 

He  felt  the  touch  of  lips  on  his  hand.  Quick  as 
thought,  for  all  the  bhndness  of  his  bandaged  eyes,  he 
caught  one  of  her  hands  and  pressed  it  to  his  lip: 


Ui. 


The 


Pvisinj^ 


305 


For  houn  Druric  lay  there,  alcne,  his  heart  full  of 
hope  and  cf  a  strange,  sweet  excitement.  He  thought 
cf  ihc'  senorita  —  and  it  was  the  vision  of  Isobel  that 
came  to  his  mind.  This  was  a  mad  thing,  but  nc  no 
the  less  exhilarating  for  its  madness.  He  gave  his 
imaginatioji  free  wing.  The  hand  he  had  kissed 
became  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  girl  he  loved.  He 
pictured  Isobel  in  that  dank  hut,  kneeling  on  the 
earthen  floor  and  supporting  his  head  on  one  white  and 
rounded  arm  and  hoMing  the  cup  to  his  lips.  At  la^c 
he  heard  the  shufflmg  of  naked,  blistered  feet  rnd  the 
clanking  of  irons,  and  he  knew  that  the  day  cf  toil 
was  over  and  the  night  of  deliverance  at  hand. 

Then  reason  returned  to  his  brain,  but  not  to  his 
heart.  His  brain  told  him  that  the  approaching  hour 
held  nothing  for  him  but  a  battle  and  the  chance  of 
life  —  or  death.  Yet  his  heart  played  with  the  mad 
dream  of  the  girl  he  loved. 

Food  and  water  vvcre  brought  to  the  eight  survivors. 
Even  Drurie  forced  a  little  of  the  unsavoury  mess 
down  his  throat.  In  broken  whispers  the  plan  of  the 
attack  was  passed  along  the  wall  from  one  to  another 
cf  the  shackled  slaves. 

They  were  slaves  no  longer.  Already  their  hearts 
were  free  and  the  chains  on  their  aching  bdics  for- 
gotten.    Agu.in  they  were  sailors  and  soldiers,  and  a 


303 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


M 


mi 


II  M 


IH 


fight  was  close  at  hand.  Sweet  is  rest  after  strife; 
but  sweeter  still  is  strife  after  slavery  and  torture,  hope 
after  despair. 

They  waited  in  the  dark  hut,  whispering,  joking  a 
little.  They  could  hear  the  other  slaves,  in  their 
distant  quarters,  chanting  a  wild,  tuneless  song. 

Hall,  a  big  New  Englander,  began  snapping  the 
joints  of  his  fingers.  "  I  must  supple  'em  up  a  bit,"  he 
whispered,  "  so's  to  get  a  good  grip  on  the  cutlass." 

"  Aye,  an'  mine  be  as  stiff  as  wood,"  replied  another; 
"  but  they'll  limber,  I  reckon,  when  they  feel  the  shark- 
skin grip  o'  a  good  hanger." 

"  There  be  no  cuttin'-tool  in  the  world  so  sweet  to 
handle  as  a  fust-class  English-made  hanger,"  said 
Tyler,  with  relish  in  his  tones. 

At  last  Laroche  and  two  blacks  entered  the  hut. 
The  blacks  carried  cutlasses  wrapped  in  sacking. 
Laroche  carried  a  clay  jug  full  of  water  and  rum  and 
fresh  limes.  He  placed  't  on  the  earthen  floor  and  felt 
his  way  to  where  Drurie  sat  against  the  wall.  He 
un'ocked  the  great  chain  from  the  Virginian's  waist, 
and  then  struck  off  the  irons  from  wrist  and  leg.  And 
so  with  the  other  seven,  working  swiftly  and  noiselessly. 
When  all  were  free,  without  a  word  they  went  to  where 
the  two  bundles  of  cutlasses  lay  on  the  ground,  and 
each  selected  a  weapon  to  suit  his  hand  and  arm. 


The  Rising 


307 


Then,  also  in  silence,  each  drank  a  measure  of  the 
levivifying  punch.  As  there  was  only  one  cup  they 
drank  in  turn,  according  to  their  old  ratings  aboard 
the  Brave  Adventure. 

The  night  was  windless  and  a  mist  hung  between 
the  stars  and  the  earth.  Tnc  eight,  accompanied  by 
Laroche  and  the  two  blacks  who  had  brought  them 
their  weapons,  stole  from  the  hut  and  across  the  little 
yard.  Drurie  still  wore  a  bandage  around  his  head  and 
over  his  injured  eye;  but  he  had  parted  the  damp 
and  fragrant  folds  of  the  linen  so  that  he  could  see  with 
his  right  eye. 

At  the  gate  in  the  wall  they  divided  into  two  parties. 
Cremona,  with  Hall,  Waller,  and  Hogan  and  the  two 
blacks,  went  down  the  slope  toward  the  iagoon  where 
a  lantern  in  the  rigging  of  the  little  schooner  glowed  like 
a  red  star.  Tyler,  Benson,  and  Jarv'is,  led  by  Drurie 
and  Laroche,  crawled  slowly  and  noiselessly  through 
the  garden  toward  the  house. 

At  last,  peering  between  the  rose-bushes,  Drurie 
caught  sight  of  the  don  taking  his  ease  with  the  master 
of  the  Twelve  Apostles.  The  two  rascals  sat  scarcely 
ten  yards  away,  at  a  small  table  at  the  top  of  the  gallery 
steps.  Two  candles  stood  on  the  table,  the  flames 
straight  as  darts  in  the  nerveless  air.  The  men  were 
leaning  forward,  smoking  and  talking  confidentially. 


nuw.  tAttri» 


308  A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Wr 


m 


Glasses  and  a  round-bellied  decanter  gleamed  between 
them  in  the  soft  glow  of  the  candles.  The  heart  of  the 
decanter,  being  of  choice  and  ancient  rum  from  Mar- 
tinique, shone  red  as  a  ruby. 

Drurie  was  motionless  as  stone,  crouched  there 
close  to  the  warm  earth,  gripping  the  hilt  of  his  cutlass 
with  fingers  as  hard  as  iron.  And  hio  heart  was  hard 
as  iron,  though  heated  red  with  hate  of  the  man  who  sat 
so  close  to  him,  leering  behind  the  candles. 

He  thought  of  his  dead  servant,  the  -lad  Nicholas, 
and  of  the  blood  springing  across  the  backs  of  his  men. 
He  remembered  the  stinging,  crushing  strokes  of  the 
stick  across  his  face.  His  men  stirred  behind  him, 
(gripping  and  regripping  their  weapons  and  gasping 
nervously  for  a  full  breath  of  the  heavy  air. 

Laroche  touched  Drurie's  arm  and  whispered  that 
the  lantern  was  being  lowered  from  the  rigging  of  the 
Fchooner.  Drurie  got  quietly  to  his  feet,  paused  for  a 
moment  to  hear  his  men  rise  behind  him,  and  then 
(lasiied  for  the  gallery.  The  table  went  over  with  a 
crash  of  glass  and  silver  and  the  candles  were  trampled 
imdcr  foot. 

"  Hold  them,  lads,"  cried  Drurie.  "  Do  not  kill! 
Tt  is  for  me  to  kill!" 

In  the  dark  it  was  hard  to  know  when  you  were 
ialling  a  man  and  when  you  were  simply  trying  to  keep 


'^m 


The  Rising 


809 


him  from  killing  you.  The  lads  did  their  best  to  obey 
their  commander's  orders;  but  when  Laroche  came 
suddenly  from  the  interior  of  the  house  with  two  fresh 
can:llcs  in  his  hands,  the  master  of  the  little  schooner 
was  found  to  be  lying  fiat  on  the  floor  of  the  gallery, 
stone  dead. 

Benson  and  Jarvis  held  the  don,  faint,  but  uninjured. 
A  cheer  rang  across  from  the  little  ^'essel  in  the  lagoon; 
and  from  the  direction  of  the  slaves'  quarters,  where  the 
overseers  and  drivers  had  been  making  merry  with  the 
crew  of  the  schooner,  came  sounds  as  of  wild  beasts 
in  mortal  combat. 

"  Tbcy  have  lost  their  fear  of  the  don  and  his  hire- 
ling?," said  Druric,  with  a  shudder. 

3.ro"c  candles  v.ere  brought  from  the  house.  Some 
were  placed  on  the  ledges  of  the  windows,  and  some  on 
the  rail  of  the  gallery.  The  shipmaster's  body  and 
the  chr-'-s  and  broken  table  were  tossed  into  the  garden. 

"  X  Av,  lads,"  said  Drurie,  "  I  am  going  to  kill  this 
dog  in  fair  fight.  Guard  the  steps,  one  of  you.  Give 
him  a  cutlass,  some  one." 

He  turned  to  the  limp  figure  in  the  grip  of  the  two 
Englishmf^n.  "  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  die  like  a  man, 
even  if  you  have  never  lived  like  one,"  he  said. 

T.arochc  handed  his  former  master  a  cutlass.  "  You 
will  remember  my  back  when  this  gentleman  drives  a 


810 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


foot  of  iron  into  your  dirty  carcass,"  he  said,  grin- 
ning. 

The  seamen  released  Alcazardo.  He  held  the  cutlass 
limply  and  stood  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"  Lads,"  said  Drurie,  "  low  as  this  fellow  is,  I  want 
to  kill  him  fair.  If  he  disables  me,  or  kills  me,  you  must 
let  him  go  free  —  though  where  to,  the  devil  only  knows. 
He  may  have  a  boat  hidden  somewhere,  in  which  he'll 
be  able  to  row  away  to  some  other  island.  However 
that  may  be,  if  he  beats  me  in  fair  fight  you  must  let 
him  go.  But  you  need  not  fear.  I  promised  to  show 
you  his  blood,  and  I'll  do  it." 

Laroche  smiled  quietly.  He  was  not  bound. by  any 
rules  of  honesty  in  matters,  of  this  kind,  as  were  the 
Virginian  and  the  sailors.  He  hud  his  cutlass  ready, 
alert  to  strike  the  don  at  the  first  sign  of  his  overpower- 
ing the  other. 

Fired  with  the  courage  of  desperation,  the  dan 
attacked  strongly,  ringing  cut  after  cut  on  Drurie's 
guard.  Both  his  eyes  were  at  his  service  and  his  arm 
was  long.  At  first  it  seemed  to  the  onlookers  as  if  he 
would  surely  overcome  his  small  and  enfeebled  an- 
tagonist. 

Then,  suddenly,  Drurie  halted  in  his  slow  and 
staggering  retreat ;  and  in  the  instant  of  ceasing  to 
retreat  he  began  to  advance.   He  saw  that  he  must  make 


The  Rising 


811 


a  great  effort,  even  if  at  the  expense  of  all  his  strength. 
His  short  blade  circled  and  stabbed  —  a  rapier  and  a 
sabre  in  one.  He  moved  swiftly  and  lightly,  to  the 
right,  to  the  left,  and  forward. 

Tyler  chuckled.  Laroche  swore  softly  in  admiration. 
Then  the  don  screamed  at  the  bite  of  an  inch  of  cold 
steel  in  his  shoulder  and  lurched  to  one  side.  The 
candles  toppled  from  the  rail  into  the  garden.  A  back- 
handed sweep  of  his  blade  sent  the  other  candles  flying 
from  the  window-sill. 

"  He's  gone!    After  him,  my  lads!  "  cried  Drurie. 

The  doit  had  escaped,  sure  enough.  Clearing  the 
railing  of  the  gallery  at  a  bound,  he  dashed  through 
the  rose-garden,  through  a  hedge  of  flowering  shrubs, 
and  into  a  field  of  full-grown  canes;  and  hot  on  his 
trail  dashed  Laroche,  the  three  English  sailors,  and 
half  a  dozen  blacks.  The  night  was  dark  and  the  trail 
thick  with  blinds. 

Drurie  did  not  follow  his  antagonist.  He  had  put 
every  oimce  of  his  strength  into  the  combat  with  the 
Spaniard,  and  now  a  sudden  swirling  faintness  overtook 
him.  He  reeled  to  the  open  door  and  peered  within. 
The  great  hall  was  dark;  but  he  made  out  a  gleam  of 
white  close  in  front  of  hira. 

"  Are  you  safe,  senorita?  "  he  cried.  Then  he  fell 
across  the  threshold. 


„V-  olflU. 


312 


A  Cavalier  of  Virginia 


Around  the  house,  and  through  the  canes,  the  slaves 
still  hunted.  Their  fierce,  exuhant  cries  rang  far  and 
wide  over  the  little  island.  Cremona  and  his  men 
held  the  little  schooner.  Laroche,  three  of  the  English 
seamen,  and  a  icw  blacks  guarded  the  house.  They 
kne\v  that  as  soon  as  the  hunting  was  over  the  mad  pack 
would  loot  and  destroy  the  house. 

"  We  must  hurry,  senorita,"  said  Laroche.  "  Let 
two  of  these  men  carry  their  captain.  We  must  get 
aboard  the  schooner  before  the  beasts  outside  become 
quite  mad.  They  have  found  the  rum  —  and  they 
have  tasted  blood." 

But  at  that  moment  Francis  Drurie  came  back  to  the 
world.  Looking  up,  he  saw  the  face  of  Isobel  Dariza 
close  above  him,  the  wonderful  eyes  agleam  with  tears. 

"  It  is  another  vision,"  he  said,  weakly. 

Then  the  face  came  closer,  and  he  felt  her  lips  upon 
his. 


Captain  Denis  St.  Ovide  Duval  sighted  the  little 
island  shortly  before  noon;  and  as  he  drew  near  a 
small  schooner  passed  across  his  course,  not  a  mile 
distant,  and  headed  northward. 

"  Let  her  go,"  said  he.  "  She'd  not  be  worth  the 
trouble  of  overhauling." 

When  he  arrived  off  the  entrance  to  the  lagoon  he 


The  Rising 


313 


beheld  a  smouldering  ruin  where  the  don's  fine  house  had 
stood;  and  a  mob  of  wild  creatures,  armed  with  cane- 
knives,  shouted  defiance  from  the  beach.  Had  he 
been  foolhardy  enough  to  force  a  landing  he  might 
have  stumbled  across  the  lifeless  and  mutilated  body 
of  the  Senor  Josef  Alcazardo. 


THE   EXD. 


) 


